Jane Doe
by seilleanmor
Summary: When Kate gets into a car accident, the outcome of her injury is retrograde amnesia – she doesn't remember her life after 2008. Rick, as a result, is left to deal with the consequences of his wife's memory loss while she comes to terms with their life together. Based on a gifset by veraflynns on tumblr. 2014 Ficathon Entry.
1. Chapter 1

**Jane Doe**

* * *

"Hey there, hot stuff." Castle grins, his cell phone trapped between shoulder and ear as he juggles bread and cheese and a knife, performing some kind of contortionist act as he moves through the kitchen and making his son shriek with laughter in the high chair at the island.

Dropping everything down onto the counter – he makes sure the knife is well away from their adventurous boy – Rick gets a hand around his phone and straightens up, raking his fingers through his hair as his wife's tender amusement floods the line between them. "Hey. You okay?"

"Uhuh, just making lunch." Their son reaches out, almost throwing himself right out of the high seat until the safety belt catches him around the middle. Thrashing against the restraint, Marlow mewls pitifully and reaches his arms up for his father, garnering for sympathy. "No, Mal buddy. Just wait, let me talk to Mommy and then I'll make your sandwich, okay?"

"Mommy? Me talk to Mommy!" Marlow insists, sitting back in his seat and settling his little hands flat against the plastic table of his chair as if he's trying to look well behaved.

Chuckling to himself, Rick comes around the counter and leans in to press a sloppy kiss to their boy's cheek, Kate's breathing on the other end of the phone line assuring him that his wife is still there. "Hey Kate, I'm gonna put you on speakerphone. Someone wants to talk to you."

Switching his phone to speaker, Castle holds it close enough to their son that Mal will be able to hear his mother and she him, while still keeping it carefully out of their boy's reach. He's made that mistake before; iPhones don't work so well after your toddler has slobbered all over them. Marlow left tiny tooth marks in the buttery leather of the phone's case and Kate still finds it hilarious several months later, won't let him throw the ruined thing away.

"Mommy!" Mal shrieks, hands pressed against his cheeks in delight. Castle cards the fingers of his free hand through their son's hair, ruffling it to tease out the curls a little more. He's cherubic, the picture of innocence despite the fact that he can only sustain the angelic image when he's asleep.

The rest of the time, he's a whirlwind of activity, a cyclone that can only be diverted when the calming presence of his mother appears in his path. "Hey there, my sweet boy. Are you being good for Daddy?"

"I _hungry_, Mommy." Marlow wails, as if Castle hadn't given him a Tupperware pot of carrot and cucumber batons to chew on not twenty minutes ago.

Over the phone Kate laughs, bright and unashamed, and Castle wonders if she snuck off to the break room to make this call or whether she's chatting with their two year old in the middle of the precinct. "I'm sure Daddy's gonna feed you really soon, baby. But you have to sit quietly and let him make your sandwich, okay?"

"I be good, Mommy." Mal says, glancing up at Castle as if for approval. Offering his son his hand, upturned and fingers pressed together, Rick almost crows with delight when Marlow returns the action, feeding the birds with him.

Taking his phone off of speaker, Castle presses it to his ear again and takes a step away from their son, seeking a little bit of quiet to talk to his wife. Mal's singing now, banging a spoon against the counter in percussion to accompany his tune, and Kate must hear it over the phone because she's laughing again. Quieter this time, but in it he hears just how much she worships their little boy. "He sounds happy."

"He's a happy kid, love. Happier still when he gets to talk with you." Rick lets his tenderness flood into his voice, leaning against the refrigerator to watch their son play, so content in his own little world. "How's the case going?"

"Good, I think. We're just grabbing some lunch while we wait for an arrest warrant to come through. Hopefully we'll have it wrapped by tonight and I'll make it home in time for dinner."

"That sounds great." Castle murmurs just for her before he has to peel himself away from the refrigerator and head to entertain his child. Marlow is rapidly growing restless, but he seems to cool off a little when Castle carves him a couple slices from the block of cheese and offers them for Mal to snack on.

Before their son was born, it was so very different. He got to be at the precinct all the time, and on the rare occasion that he wasn't he would just wait up for his wife, get dinner with her whenever she eventually made it home.

Now, they have to stick to a schedule. Mal has dinner and his bath at the same time every day; keeping him on a strict timetable makes it easier to get him to go to sleep. It means that often Kate misses bath time and stories, sometimes has to creep quietly into Marlow's room at ten or eleven o'clock and brush a soft kiss to their son's forehead.

"I'm not making a promise here, babe. Just. . .wishful thinking." He can see her shrug so clearly in his mind's eye, the way her brow furrows and she chews on her lip.

Switching the phone back to speaker so he can free up his hands, Rick butters slices of bread for their sandwiches and cuts up some cheese, looking back towards his phone and calling out to his wife as he rummages in the refrigerator for salad.

"I know, Beckett. Don't worry about it. You just do your job, put the bad guys away, and you're home when you're home."

Rick lays out slices of tomato on top of the cheese in their sandwiches and presses the other piece of bread over the top, cutting the sandwich into quarters before he passes it over to their son. Taking a bite of his own food, Castle brings the phone to his ear again and rounds the island, settling in next to his little boy.

"I have to go. I'll text you when I leave the precinct." That makes him smile, his grin earning him a quizzical look from their son. She tells him this same thing every day, that she'll text when she leaves. "I love you both, bye."

"Bye, Kate. Love you, too." He says and then the line goes dead and he slips his phone back into his pocket, swivelling around on his stool to face Marlow. "How's your sandwich, my man?"

Mal giggles, taking an enormous bite of his lunch and chewing with his mouth open, displaying the red and yellow mush for the world to see. "Yummy, Daddy!"

"Hey buddy, that's gross. Close your mouth when you chew, please." He says. Mal watches him for a moment, defiant with his mouth still open, and Rick touches two fingers to the underneath of his son's chin to nudge him in the right direction.

Mal complies, at least, and Rick is inordinately grateful that it hasn't turned into a battle of epic proportions. Today, for now, seems like a good day.

* * *

In the bathtub, Mal rolls over onto his back and grins wickedly, catching his father's eye before his hips arc up out of the water. "Daddy, watch me."

"No." Castle says sharply, hooking both hands under the boy's arms and dragging him upright. "You do not pee in the bath. If you want to go to the bathroom, you get out."

Marlow shrivels a little under his father's scolding, but he doesn't seem too deterred from his fun. Instead, he gathers his countless bath toys against his round little belly and starts trying to pile the rubber ducks on top of the tug boat, drops of water from the ends of his hair falling down into his eyes.

Sitting back on his calves, Castle wipes his hands off on his son's towel and reaches for his phone where it buzzes against the counter with the arrival of a new message.

_On my way home. Can't wait to see my two favourite men._ The text from his wife reads and he smiles, sets his phone back on the counter top, well away from the splash zone. "Mommy's on her way home, buddy. She can read your story tonight."

"Mommy read me?" Mal grins, scooping up some of the bubbles that foam on the surface of the water and scrubbing them into his hair.

Castle shrugs and lets his son bathe himself, deciding that for tonight the bubbles will do the job of shampoo well enough. When Marlow is done lathering his hair into peeks and giggling wildly, Rick snags the plastic cup from the side of the bathtub and fills it with water, starts rinsing off his son. "That's right. Mommy will read to you."

Once Mal is clean he stands up in the water and lifts his hands up for Rick, clamouring to be picked up. He's big enough now to get out of the bathtub himself; in fact, a couple weeks back he went clambering out and streaked a trail of water through the whole upstairs hallway before Kate managed to catch up to him and corral him with a towel.

Regardless of his escape artistry, Marlow sometimes just wants the warm comfort of his father's embrace. Castle wraps his son in a towel and draws the squirmy, wet little body close against his own. Covering his son's head with the towel a moment, he scrubs through Mal's hair and they share a laugh when the boy's head pops up again, his hair standing on end. "All dry?"

"All dry, Daddy." Mal grins, escaping from his father's grip and charging full pelt out of the hall and towards his bedroom. Clean pajamas are laid out on the bed and Castle catches up to his son, helps the boy struggle his way into them.

When Mal's face pops through the neck hole of his pajama shirt Rick pulls a grotesque face that makes their son dissolve into laughter and flop back onto his sheets. It's the 'big boy' bed he got for his second birthday, his most prized possession, and his chest still puffs with pride every time he climbs in.

"Okay my man, come on. Gotta brush teeth quick, before Mommy gets home. She doesn't want smelly breath kisses." He teases his son, tickling up Marlow's sides to get the boy moving. Instead of letting him charge back to the bathroom, Castle scoops him up and drapes him over his shoulder, heading for the bathroom with Mal wriggling against his back.

It's a delicate balance; just enough play like this will tire their son out and make him sleep easier, too much and he'll be wired for hours. In the bathroom, Rick sets his son down on the tile and offers his hand to help Marlow up onto the stepping stool, handing over his son's toothbrush and turning on the faucet to let him run it under the stream of water.

Once he's finished, Rick squeezes out a blob of toothpaste onto the brush and hands it over to Marlow, letting the boy give his teeth a few mostly futile sweeps of the brush before he settles a hand at his son's shoulder. "Let Daddy check, okay. If we don't keep your teeth clean they'll all fall out, and then how are you going to chew your food?"

It's melodramatic, but it works; Mal's mouth pops open and he lets his father give his teeth a second, more thorough cleaning. "All done, my man. Good job. Mommy will be here any minute, so go pick out a book for her to read to you, okay?"

"Okay Daddy." Mal grins, reaching up for his father. Rick stoops down enough that Marlow can reach him and the boy presses a smacking, slobbery kiss to his cheek, looking so delighted with himself that Castle doesn't have the heart to wipe the slime away until his son disappears to his bedroom.

Heading downstairs, Castle makes sure he's got a hair tie in his pocket to hand to his wife when she comes through the door. Almost the moment she crosses the threshold she wants to tie her hair back, every day without fail, so Castle's taken to carrying ponytail holders around with him for her.

Ensconcing himself on the couch, Rick grabs his phone and loads up the new app Alexis downloaded for him. His daughter challenged him at it, but between caring for Marlow and trying to hide it from Kate (she will definitely beat him) he hasn't had much opportunity to hone his skills.

Time unspools away from him as he gets sucked into the game, so when he exits out of it and sees the time display on his phone the shock of those missing minutes hits him like a fist in the gut. Almost forty have passed since he sat down.

His son is very quiet upstairs, suspiciously quiet, but it's not that that has the first tendrils of adrenaline unfurling low down in his stomach. His wife should have been home over a half hour ago. Finding her number in his contacts, he dials and grunts in frustration when it goes straight to voicemail.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Rick lets his eyes slam closed and scrubs a hand down his face, standing up from the couch. It's possible that she was called back to the precinct, but surely she would have sent him a text if that was true?

Maybe she's stuck in traffic? Yeah, could be it. He ignores the niggling little seed of doubt in his brain that's yelling at him, saying there couldn't possibly be enough traffic to make her _this_ late. Taking the stairs two at a time, he rushes to check on his son.

Marlow is asleep on top of the covers, the book he chose for his mother to read to him clutched tight against his chest. Peeling it gently out of his son's grip, Rick draws the sheets up over his baby boy and tucks them in close around him, gets to his knees next to the bed and leans in to rest his forehead next to Mal's.

The sleepy, familiar warmth of their boy is a balm to him, but then his phone rings and he jerks, scrambling to his feet and hurrying out of the room before the noise can wake his son. Swiping to answer the call, he brings the phone to his ear and heads for the stairs. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Richard Castle?" An unfamiliar voice says. There are discordant noises in the background on the other end of the line, voices and sirens and the rush of traffic, and his guts sink right down into his toes.

"Speaking."

"I'm very sorry to tell you, Mr Castle, but there's been an accident involving your wife. Is it possible for you to meet us at New York Presbyterian?" The voice says, something gentle and soothing about it, but he's hearing as if through glass.

As if a bell jar has descended over his head and the oxygen is slowly being sucked out of his world. His blood sings _Kate Kate Kate_ and he clenches his fist to stop the trembling, stumbles his way down the staircase and collapses into a barstool. "Yes. Of course. Yes. I have to get someone to take care of our son, but I'll be there. I'll bring him if I have to."

"Alright. Just give her name at reception and someone will be able to direct you to her." The woman on the phone says and then she hangs up. A tear slides down the slope of his nose and drops off, hitting the screen of his phone and making the colours splinter apart, sharp hints of pink and green in the little bubble of wetness.

And then he's on autopilot, hurrying to move through the motions of his emergency procedures. He needs to get to her, right now.

* * *

Crashing through the doors of the hospital with Jim hot on his heels, Castle goes careening to the reception desk and slams his palms down on the counter, sucking in the deep breath his lungs are crying out for before he speaks. "I'm looking for my wife. Katherine Castle. She's thirty eight years old; they said there was an accident."

"Of course, Mr Castle." The receptionist says. She gives him directions to the trauma unit and he feels himself nodding ridiculously but he can't seem to stop, has totally lost control of his body. He's not even listening to everything the young woman is saying; it takes Jim shoving on his shoulder to get him moving in the right direction.

They hurry together, corridors stretching out for miles and standing between the woman they both love most in the world. Jim has been nearly silent since he picked Rick up from the loft, the two men retreating further and further inside their own panic the longer they're without her.

He called his daughter, and shame cuts him through. Alexis is a young woman now, a college graduate with her own life, but his mother is out of town with a touring production and Jim needs to be here at the hospital and he just didn't know what else to do.

Alexis is at home with Mal. At least his children are safe. At least he has them if-

No. Not happening. He's not losing her now. Not like this. Rick and Jim crash through the doors of the trauma unit and intercept the nearest nurse, begging her to take them to Kate. She's sweet, but unflappable, and her steadfast calm seems to leak into both of them.

For the first time since the phone call, Rick can think straight. Somehow, he manages not to run as they follow the nurse to where Kate is. Outside the curtain she stops them, a hand on Rick's chest to keep him from barging right past.

"When Mrs Castle came in, she had lost consciousness due to a head injury sustained during the crash. She's awake now, concussed but no serious damage. We haven't run all the tests that we'd like to yet; we're waiting on the on-call doctor. At first sight she's scraped up, bruised, but it could be a lot worse. She should consider herself very lucky. We're monitoring her right now, and her vital signs look good."

"Okay. I get it. Just please let us see her." He begs the nurse, and then she peels back the curtain and he falls inside the bay, staggering towards his wife in the hospital bed.

His hands come to either side of her face and he pushes his lips to hers in gratitude, breathes her name against the split-open seam of her mouth. "I'm so glad you're alright. You scared me."

"You're Richard Castle." She frowns at him, that vein in her forehead that's always so prominent when she's stressed. She's stiff in the bed, staring at him with a sheen of nonrecognition making her face like a stranger's to him, and then she turns to her father. "Hey, Dad. You're here."

"Of course I'm here. You're my daughter." Jim huffs, moving to stand at Kate's side and draw her in against his chest. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, smoothes a hand over her hair and his eyes drift closed for a moment. "Oh, Katie."

When Kate's father lets her out of his embrace he sinks gratefully into a chair at her bedside and Rick sits on the bed at her feet, wrapping a hand around her ankle through the sheets. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm sorry. . .what are you doing here?" She frowns, drawing her knees up higher in the bed so he loses his grip on her. Instead, he folds his hands carefully in his lap and tries not to look as much of a wreck as he feels.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" He frowns at her, trying desperately to understand.

"We don't know each other."

"Katie." Jim says sharply at her side, pinning her with his stare. "This isn't funny. Don't mess with us, sweetheart. We were so scared."

And then the panic leaches slowly onto her face and she goes deathly pale, her eyes wide and deep enough to drown in where they swim in the pale moon of her face. "I'm not joking, Dad. I don't understand. What's Richard Castle doing in my hospital room? And where's my phone, I need to call Montgomery and tell him I can't make it to that departmental meeting tomorrow morning."

Montgomery? Oh God. Oh, no. "Kate. . .what are you talking about?"

"Why are you _here_?" She growls, the same grit of frustration that he's heard in her voice hundreds of times. When they've been lost in the twisting confusion of a case, when their wedding was falling apart at the seams around them, every time she feels inadequate as a mother.

Sharing a look with Jim, Rick sees the older man floundering too and swallows hard, his throat filled up with grit as he looks at the woman he loves and she looks back as if they've never seen each other before. "Why wouldn't I be here? You're my wife."

"No. _No_!" She almost yells, shaking her head and seeming to withdraw further inside the shell of herself even as they watch. "I don't know you."

"Kate." Jim says sharply, grabbing for his daughter's hand and lifting it for her to see. The wedding band that circles her ring finger is unavoidable, and Kate's eyes flood with tears at the sight of it. She's trembling, he sees when Jim lets go of her hand.

Closing his eyes, Castle takes a second to prepare himself, and then he speaks, soft and unassuming even when all he wants to do is haul her against his chest and beg her to please just stop messing with him, that it isn't funny anymore. That it never was.

"Kate. . .what year is it?"

She stares at him, and then her eyes flick to her father and Rick's follow to see Jim, head buried in his hands. The hunch of his shoulders and his weather-spotted hands make him look older than Castle's ever seen him and his heart lurches in his chest.

There's a tiny noise from Kate, something that he might call a whimper if it came from anyone else, and then she lifts her chin, ever defiant, and meets his eyes. "It's 2008."

* * *

**Tumblr:** katiehoughton

**Twitter:** seilleanmor


	2. Chapter 2

**Jane Doe**

* * *

The moment she murmurs the date to these two men in her hospital room, one the most familiar face she knows and the other an almost-stranger, it's obvious that she's wrong. Neither of them is particularly good at hiding it; her father looks devastated in a way she really hasn't seen since he got sober four years back. "Dad?"

"Katie, sweetheart-" Her dad grits out, the rest of his words crumbling at the barrier of his teeth. Shaking his head, her father stands up and strides out of the room. Leaving her alone with her favourite author, whom she has been desperately trying to ignore since he said that she's his _wife_.

Because holy hell. No. She sees the ring on her finger, sees the desolation on his face, but her brain just won't make the leap from A to B, won't connect the dots to come out with her being _married_ to Richard freaking Castle, because seriously? No way she'd forget that.

"Kate. You uh, you don't remember me?" He murmurs, hands twitching as though he wants nothing more than to cradle hers in his own. The way he's looking at her – like she's his whole universe – makes her heart pound in her chest.

Swallowing hard, she dips her head and looks away from him, her finger coming up to trace the edge of the tape that holds the cannula in place at the crook of her elbow. "No."

"You don't remember. . .anything past 2008?" He says, quieter still. As though giving voice to the horror will make it all the more real. She knows that feeling well enough, how every time she had to say _my mother is dead_ the knowledge grew a little more rotten, gnarled and twisted inside her.

At least she manages to do him the courtesy of meeting his eyes, this man she's never met but knows so well, his own personality bleeding through the words he writes and his face staring at her from the back of countless book jackets. "Nothing. What- how much am I missing?"

She almost said _what year is it_ but the concept is just too weird, too completely bizarre to speak out loud. He stares at her for a long moment, his face contorted into anguish, and then he sighs. "I shouldn't tell you. They'll do a psych eval and-"

"I don't need a _psych eval_." She spits, venom making her words taste foul as they come out. "I need you to tell me the truth. How much of my life have I forgotten?"

"It's 2018. You're missing the last ten years." He says mournfully, his gaze trapped on the linoleum. She's grateful for that, at least, to not have him watch her suck in a breath and slam her eyes closed and try not to sob.

How can ten years of her life be missing? How is this _happening_? Lacing her fingers together, Kate presses her palms over top of her eyes and pushes until colour starbursts behind her lids. There are so many things she wants to know, but first. "How long have we been married?"

"Four years." He smiles at that, meeting her eyes again and his thumb comes to his ring finger, twisting the wedding band around and around. And at least there's this. She's grateful that her future self – well, her _now_ self – has found someone to be happy with.

It's just. . .a lot to take in. Her bottom lip is raw but she chews on it anyway, suddenly exhausted. Her head is pounding and the place at her cheekbone where her skin got scraped raw is stinging like a bitch. She just wants to sleep, and maybe when she wakes up this won't be happening to her. She won't have forgotten her husband. "What am I gonna do?"

Before Castle gets a chance to answer her father comes bustling back into the room with a doctor in tow. The woman holds her hand out for Kate to shake and her grip is firm, her palms cool. Immediately, it sets Kate at ease and she feels some of the tension loosening in her shoulders as they drop a little. "Detective Beckett? Good to meet you. I'm Doctor Reid. Your father tells me you're suffering some memory loss?"

"It would seem so." Beckett says derisively, shooting a glance at her father. She can't meet Castle's eyes anymore, not when there are other people in the room watching her. Other people here to see that she doesn't know her husband, doesn't love him.

The doctor flicks her eyes over the monitor by the bed and makes a few notes on her clipboard before she turns back to Kate. "Okay. Can you tell me your name?"

"Katherine Beckett." She says, inordinately grateful that she's still got that much. There've been horror stories before of people waking up from an accident with no idea who they are; at least she's only missing ten years and not-

Holy shit. She must be thirty eight years old. Oh god. She's almost forty. "Can you tell me how old you are?"

"Mr Castle told me what year it is. So I can figure it out." Kate doesn't miss the way he flinches when she calls him Mr Castle, his face turned away and his jaw sharp with tension. Well, she supposes she calls him _Rick_ now. If they're married.

The thought snatches the breath from her chest every time she thinks of it and she turns back to the doctor, forces herself to concentrate on the other woman rather than either of the men in the room. Every time she opens her mouth she breaks both of their hearts.

"Well Ms Beckett, your father told me you think it's 2008. Is that correct?" Doctor Reid says gently, watching Kate from over top of the clipboard in her hands.

Gritting out a sigh, Kate rakes a hand through her hair and shrugs. "Clearly it's not _correct_, but yes. . .that's what I thought."

"Okay. I'm going to go and find out if any of our psychiatric doctors are available to come and see you." The doctor says and then she's gone and the little room is cloaked in silence, all three of them reeling from the shock of it. Castle's phone rings and he jerks, tugs it out and checks the caller ID before he hurries away from the room and down the hallway.

In the chair next to her bed, Kate's father looks more tired than she can remember ever seeing him. And yes, maybe that's because he's ten years older than she was expecting him to be when she woke up, but the absolute desolation on his face isn't helping much.

"Dad. What am I going to do?" She says quietly, searching his face for some kind of reassurance.

To his credit, he does manage a smile for her and he reaches for her hand, clutches it tightly. "It'll be okay, Katie. You're not badly hurt, and that's the main thing. We'll do everything we can to get your memories back."

"But what if they don't come back?" She says, her voice crackling with anguish as she looks at her father. Her eyes flood with tears and she blinks them away, pressing a trembling hand to her mouth. What is she supposed to do?

From the looks of things, her whole life has changed in these last ten years, but she's completely in the dark about everything that's happened to her. So far, all she really knows is that she's gotten married sometime in the past ten years.

Her father squeezes the hand still trapped in his own, reaching up to swipe away a tear with his thumb. "Katie, sweetheart, trust me. You're going to be okay. There are so many people that care about you."

"Like Richard Castle?" She lifts an eyebrow at her father, staring him down. Her dad knows that she's an enormous fan of Castle's books, that they got her through her mother's death, and so he must understand her total astonishment to find out that she's married to him. "Dad, are he and I. . .happy together?"

At that, her dad huffs a breath of laughter and shakes his head, grinning at her. "Katie, I have never seen you so happy as you have been since you married Rick. The man adores you, and you adore him right back."

"I don't know him, Dad." She murmurs, drawing her knees up closer to her chest. "What if he expects me to be able to be his wife? I don't want him to get hurt when he realises that I can't do that."

"Rick has been trying his best to do what's right for you for nine years now. I'm sure he'll give you whatever you need. Just don't push him out, alright? I know he's essentially a stranger to you but you're his wife. He loves you, and he needs to be allowed to help you."

"Okay." She mumbles, feeling like a little girl, and then Castle – Rick – God, she doesn't even know what to _call_ him – reappears in the doorway and comes back into the room.

There's only one chair in the room and her father is currently occupying it, but Castle doesn't sit at Kate's feet again. Instead he stays carefully on the other side of the room, his back against the wall. His eyes are red and a little swollen and his face, even from over here, looks cold and clammy as if he splashed water over it to hide the evidence of his crying. If she had any doubts about how deeply he cares for her after the way he kissed her when he first walked in, the way he looks now is erasing them completely. She's broken this man's heart, and she barely even knows him.

"I spoke to my daughter. Explained that I don't know when I'll make it home." He shares a look with Kate's father that she doesn't understand, the two men watching each other a moment before Castle nods slowly. "If you'll let me, I'd really like to stay here with you until you're discharged, Kate."

"You have your own life." She says before she's even thought it through. The worst thing about getting hurt, or sick, is how much of a burden she always feels to the people who end up looking after her. Which is why for the most part, she doesn't let anyone see that weaker part of herself.

Except, if she married this man. . .she never would have committed to that unless she'd thrown herself completely in to their relationship. Unless she trusted him.

"You're my life, Kate." He's quiet, his head bowed as if in shame, and her heart breaks for this handsome stranger who looks so utterly dejected.

Her father squeezes her hand to get her attention and then lets go of it, leans in a little closer and speaks quietly enough that Castle might not even hear. "Katie, if you want me to stay then I will, but it should be Rick with you. And the nurses aren't going to be happy if we're both hanging around."

"I don't know him, Dad." She whispers, panic rising in her throat. If she's left alone with Castle she's bound to just keep hurting him with how little she knows about him, about them.

Her father nods, his face solemn, and she knows this look. He's made his mind up. "Yes, but he knows you. Better than anyone else does. You must have so many questions, sweetheart, and Rick's the best person to answer them."

"Dad-"

"I'll come back in the morning and bring you some things you might need, if you're still here." Her father says, standing up from his chair and heading for the doorway. "Will Alexis be able to let me in to the loft?"

"Of course." Castle says, staring at Kate's father as if he's just resurfaced from some sort of fugue state. Ironic, really, and it makes her huff out a breath of laughter that earns her a raised eyebrow from both men. "Thank you, Jim."

When her father leaves, he takes all of the carefully maintained, fragile calm with him and suddenly it's so unbearably awkward that Kate can't even look at Castle. It takes almost five minutes with neither of them moving before she finally musters up the courage to speak. "Do you. . .want to sit?"

"Right." He mumbles, the corner of his mouth quirking up into something that might be a smile. Sinking into the chair at her bedside, Castle sets his palms against his thighs and stays completely still, just watching her. "You must have a lot of questions."

"I don't know where to start. And I'm afraid of most of the answers." She confesses in a moment of brutal honesty, watching his reaction carefully. He flinches, and it confirms what she already suspected; the ten missing years are littered with even more tragedy.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Castle presses his fist to his mouth and watches her, his ring struggling to glint in the too-bright hospital light. "What if I just told you the most important things you've missed?"

"Sure." Kate says, trying desperately not to seem too eager, but before he gets a chance to say anything else Doctor Reid is back with two more doctors in tow, and then there's no time for talking.

* * *

It's almost four in the morning by the time they've finished with his wife. She's been subjected to a barrage of tests, scans and x-rays, countless questions posed to her in the interim as they've waited for the results. Her cognitive and motor functions are apparently fine; apart from the scrape to her cheek and some bruises she's physically undamaged. Mentally, however, they have no idea when she might regain her memories. If ever.

She's asleep now, the thin hospital sheet draped over her slender frame as best she could manage when she had to battle the stiffness of starch. Rick sits in the chair at her bedside, one of her hands cradled in both of his, and he watches his wife sleep.

Every time he takes a breath it catches in his throat, the slow-receding panic making him sick and shaky. He keeps trying to tell himself that it's okay, that she's physically unharmed and he should be grateful for that. And he is, truly he is, but she doesn't know him.

She doesn't remember anything of their life together, and he has absolutely no idea what he's supposed to do. He's her husband and he loves her, adores her, would move heaven and earth to keep her safe. And she knows only that they've been married for four years. Only the most basic facts about them.

There hasn't been the time to explain everything to her; how to even begin explaining a whole ten years of someone's life? The doctors wanted to keep her here overnight to be monitored because of her head injury, but hopefully tomorrow he'll be able to take her home and start filling in all of the gaps in her memory.

If she even comes home with him. He's not sure if she's even realised that she lives with him now, that she doesn't have her old apartment to retreat to. Maybe she'll stay with Jim, but his apartment is a one bedroom and Castle is entirely not comfortable with either Kate or her father roughing it on the couch.

No. He's happy for Jim to stay at the loft with them for a while if that's what Kate needs. Anything she needs really, he's willing to do, but he wants so desperately for her to come home with him. And yes, thank you, he knows there are some tough conversations that need to be had before she does.

Like the fact that there's a two year old whirlwind waiting for her back home who adores her and will absolutely not understand why Mommy suddenly doesn't know who he is. He should have told her already, he knows that, but she had seemed so overwhelmed just at the knowledge that they're married and she's missing ten years.

He couldn't bring himself to give her anything more to handle. He'll tell her in the morning when Jim is back, so at least if she screams at him for keeping it from her and sends him away she won't have to be alone.

Eyes drooping, he jerks in the chair and yawns wide, his jaw aching with it. One of the nurses offered to try and find him a cot bed but he declined; there's no way he's going to be able to get any sleep. Not when every time he closes his eyes their entire life together flashes behind his eyelids like ticker tape. If he loses her now, if she walks away from their life, he doesn't know how he's going to survive it.

She stirs around six, her eyes slowly peeling open to meet his. He waits, heart pounding, for a flood of recognition that never comes. "What time s'it?"

Oh, god, he loves her. What are they going to do? "It's just past six am. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a bus." She says wryly, sitting up in the bed and tugging the hospital gown up where it has slipped down past one shoulder. There's a window set high up in the wall and it sends the golden light of the early morning pouring in to splash over Kate, her hair luminescent in a halo around her head as she watches him.

Shifting in his seat to try and get some feeling back into the parts of his butt that grew numb sometime in the night, Castle hesitates a moment before he works up the courage to speak. "Do you. . .remember anything?"

"No, nothing. I'm sorry." She murmurs, picking at a loose thread at the corner of the crisp white sheet. His heart lurches and he reaches for her other hand, knotting their fingers together.

"Please don't be sorry, Kate. There's no pressure. It's alright."

Her eyes are too big in her face when she stares at him, her mouth a pale slash. "I don't want to disappoint you. But I don't know how to be your wife, Castle."

"Hey, no." He soothes, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand. "I'm not asking you to be my wife right now, Beckett. Just be you, okay? Focus on healing."

She nods at him, but she slowly untangles her hand from his and clasps both of hers together, setting them on top of the sheets. Stiff and awkward with her spine too straight, she sits there and barely manages to look at him.

They're still silent when the nurse comes in some time later and checks Kate's vitals, frowning at the monitor and noting down the figures. "Okay honey, your heart rate's looking a little bit high, so they're probably going to want to keep you here until after lunch."

"Okay." Kate says, suddenly so small and fragile in the hospital bed. Castle wants to say something, offer some sort of reassurance, but before he manages to think of anything Kate's father appears with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

"Hey there, you two. Katie, how are you feeling?" Jim says, waving Castle away when he starts to get up and offer his chair to Mr Beckett.

"Not great, Dad." His wife admits, and Jim sets the duffel down and heads to sit at his daughter's hip on the bed.

He smoothes her hair back, kisses her cheek and the two of them share a look that Rick turns his face away from, feeling voyeuristic to be witnessing it. "I'm gonna head back to the loft and freshen up, check on Alexis and-"

Thankfully, Kate doesn't seem to notice when he cuts himself off sharply. Jim does, though, and he turns to face Rick, his eyes shuttered. "That's probably a very good idea."

"Is everything okay?" Rick chokes out, panic making his vision blur for a moment, his heart thrashing in his chest. His son, their little boy, and he must be terrified to have gone to sleep with his mother on her way home and woken up to find both of his parents gone.

"Alexis is fine." Jim says pointedly, a note of sympathy in his face. Father to father, Jim understands all too well the concern that Rick is about to drown under.

Castle stands and shrugs his way into his jacket, hesitating before he goes for the door. Instead, he comes to Kate's side and smoothes the wild curl of her hair back behind her ear. "I know you don't remember me, and I know it doesn't help much, but I love you, Kate. I'll be back soon."

And then, as if on autopilot, he leans in and brushes a gentle kiss to the underneath of her cheekbone. She flinches and recoils, the same way she did that first case together when he first felt the perfect smoothness of her skin underneath his mouth.

He lets himself have a precious moment to hover, breathe her in and pretend that everything's normal and he's leaving her in bed to head to a meeting at Black Pawn instead. When he pulls away, Jim stands and claps him on the shoulder, squeezing hard. "I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Thank you, Jim." He manages, and then he leaves his wife alone with her father and navigates his way out of the maze of corridors and into the sunshine. Plucking his phone from his pocket, he calls his car service and arranges for someone to come pick him up. When he hangs up he slumps against the concrete edifice of the building and chokes on a sob, clenching his fists so hard they shake.

He can't fall apart now. Not in front of his driver and certainly not in front of his children either. No, he has to be strong for them, especially Mal. Their son is such a mommy's boy that the despair comes in waves that crash over Castle's head. Kate doesn't even know Marlow exists, and there is no one else that even comes close to the adoration between the two of them. Castle's son is only going to get more and more agitated the longer he's kept away from Kate.

Not that it'll be much longer; she'll be home this afternoon. But there's no way she'll be ready to be a mother then too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jane Doe**

* * *

Castle can hear his son's pitiful cries the moment he steps off of the elevator; not for the first time, he's grateful that the couple who share this floor with them are so very tolerant. At the door, he takes a moment to steel himself and then he unlocks it, steps inside to find his daughter rocking his son over by the window.

The boy's face is red and blotchy, his mouth open as he sobs and even from the other side of the room Rick can tell that these are real tears, the anguished kind and not to the ones he offers once or twice a day when things aren't going his own way.

"Look, here's Daddy now! Hey, Mal. Daddy's home." Alexis says against the shell of her brother's ear, bouncing the boy in her arms and striding across the room to meet her father.

She gives Marlow up with no trouble at all, shifting him right in to Rick's arms and he bands them tight around his son, pressing a kiss to his cheek and palming the back of his head to keep Mal from thrashing right out of his grip in distress. "Hey there, my man. Have you been good for your big sister?"

Alexis runs a hand through her hair – she cut it recently and it only just sweeps her shoulders, takes him by surprise every time. "He's not happy, Dad. He keeps crying for Kate. I didn't know what to tell him. I'm sorry."

"Hey, pumpkin, shh." Rick says, untangling an arm from around his son and banding it around his daughter's shoulders to draw her in against his side. She'll be twenty five next month, his baby girl, and even though she's making her way in her career, has a serious boyfriend who Rick actually _approves of_, sometimes she still reminds him of that quiet, solemn ten year old. "You did great. He's okay, right buddy?"

"Mama." Marlow wails, his head rolling on his neck as his eyes scan the room. He fixes on the door and flops forward, almost toppling out of Castle's hold as if he's trying to get to the entryway. As if he expects her to come walking through any minute. "Where Mama?"

"You can see Mommy soon, okay?" Rick does his best to appease his son, heading for the couch and settling down onto the cushion, cradling Mal against his chest. "She has an ouch, but she's at the hospital and the doctors are going to make her all better so she can come home and play with you."

It's not too much of a lie, he hopes. With a little luck, he'll be able to convince her to come home with him, to their home together. Alexis settles down at his side and cards a hand through her brother's hair, leaning in to kiss his forehead. The warmth and the familiarity of Rick's embrace seem to have soothed him a little; he keeps releasing these great sighing breaths as he comes down from his crying jag.

"Hey Mal, you wanna curl up on the couch? I'll grab your blanket." Castle's daughter murmurs, her palm smoothing up and down Marlow's spine now. He's still in his pajamas, but it doesn't seem to matter so much right now. And Rick knows what a battle it can be to get his son dressed.

"That sounds good, buddy. You nap, and when you wake up-" He cuts himself off before he can say something stupid, something that might not even be true. He can't promise Marlowe that the boy's mother will come home to him. Kate is undoubtedly going to hate him for keeping something so huge from her for even this long; there's no guarantee she'll manage to forgive him enough to even consider meeting their son.

Alexis frowns at him as she stands up from the couch and snags the fleece blanket folded over the armchair. "Dad?"

"Let's get him settled, first." Rick says, taking the blanket from his daughter and snapping his wrists to open it out. He wraps it around Marlow's little body and transfers his son as gently as possible to the couch cushion. Leaning in, he kisses his son's cheek and whispers against the shell of his tiny ear as he slowly untangles Mal's hand from where it's fisted in Castle's shirt. "Sleep well, my man. I love you."

Alexis opens her mouth and he shakes his head sharply at her, gestures towards the kitchen. He heads for the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of water, drinks half of it down with his daughter hovering at his side like a shadow capped with flame.

On the phone, he gave his daughter only the bare bones of an explanation. He didn't want to worry her, didn't want to have to explain over the phone that Kate has woken up with ten years of her life missing. Especially not when Alexis has been dealing with a very cranky two year old all night and this morning.

"Dad. . .what's wrong? Is she really hurt? You said she was okay." His daughter says, her voice steadily rising towards the end of her sentence.

Drawing her in for a hug, Castle's ruffles her hair like he did when she was five and gets a huff of annoyance from her that blooms into a tremulous smile. Leading her over to the island, he nudges her to sit and slides into the bar stool next to hers, his hand settling at her wrist. "Physically, Kate is just a little banged up. Nothing too serious. But mentally. . .she thinks it's 2008."

"Oh my god, Dad." Alexis chokes out, her face blanching and her mouth dropping open. He waits, half hoping his baby girl will have something reassuring to say, but it's not fair of him to expect that from her.

"She doesn't remember me. Or you, or Gram or Marlow."

"Dad. . ." She whispers, her eyes filling with tears that she hastens to sweep away, collecting them at her fingertips. Alexis shakes her head, a hand pressed to her mouth and the portion of her face that he can see alive with disbelief.

He gets it all too well, how it feels when the shock smacks into you and knocks all of the breath from your chest. "I know, Alexis. I just have to believe that somewhere in there, she's still my wife. She'll come back to me."

"Does she know about Mal?" His daughter murmurs, shooting a glance over to the couch to check on her baby brother. Castle looks over at his son too and the two of them watch him for a moment, his chest rising and collapsing back down as he sleeps. Completely oblivious to the fact that his mother has no idea he even exists, and Rick only hopes that they can keep it that way.

He manages a shrug, his fingers twitching. He wants to fiddle with something, give his anxiety a physical outlet, but he can't right now. He won't make Alexis watch him lose it. "Not yet. She was overwhelmed enough; I didn't think it wise to throw that into the mix."

"You have to tell her. She needs to know that she's got a child, Dad." His daughter says sharply, almost glaring at him. And yes, thank you, he knows that he has to tell his wife about their son. But he's so terrified of how she'll react, how much it's going to hurt her to realise that she doesn't remember a single moment of Marlow's life.

Gritting out a sigh, he stands up from the barstool and drops a kiss to the top of his daughter's head. "I know. I will. I just came home to freshen up and check on you and Marlow, and when I get back to the hospital I'll tell her."

"Okay. How do you think she'll take it?" Alexis worries at her bottom lip with her teeth, tucking her hair back behind her ears in a move that's so reminiscent of Kate that he startles, takes a step backward.

"I don't know. I don't know what to do. He needs his mom, but she doesn't even know him." He's floundering suddenly, his careful control slipping away faster than he can handle, and his daughter slides off of the stool and comes to wrap him in her embrace, her arms tight around his neck.

"It'll be okay, Dad. It's impossible not to fall in love with Mal the moment you meet him." She soothes and remarkably, it does help.

Sucking in a deep breath, he gives her a last squeeze and extracts himself from their hug. "Right. I hope-" He cuts himself off, doesn't want to burden his daughter with his own desperation. "Are you okay to take care of Mal until we get home? I can call Gram to come back if you need to go."

"No, Dad." Alexis frowns at him, her arms folded across her chest. "He's my baby brother. I'll take care of him for as long as you need."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He murmurs, a little embarrassed by the thickness of emotion in his throat. He just doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to do the right thing by his wife. But at least he has his daughter and his son, at least the two of them are okay.

"Will you. . .give Kate my love? I know she doesn't know who I am, but maybe it'll help to know there are people who care about her." Alexis says quickly, a flush rising in her cheeks, and her eyes firmly fixed on her own feet.

Rick touches her arm and when she looks at him he manages a smile, tries to let his face flood with gratitude. "Of course I will. If you or Mal need anything just call me, okay?"

"We'll be fine. You just concentrate on being there for Beckett." His daughter insists, turning him around and nudging him towards the door.

Glancing back over his shoulder at her, he nods solemnly and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Right. I'll try and keep you updated.

"Dad, stop stalling. Go."

Right. Yes. He's going.

* * *

Kate is up and dressed in the clothes her father brought her by the time Richard Castle comes back to the hospital. Skinny jeans and a top that's floaty and girly but, strangely enough, something she really likes. At least it doesn't seem like her tastes have changed too dramatically over the missing ten years.

When he pokes his head around the door she's standing up, for no other reason than she's tired of laying down after so many hours. And so very ready to get out of here. Earlier, she asked her father what she refers to her husband as. If it was Rick, like her father does, or Castle. The latter came to her purely because of her cop instincts, but her father had chuckled and affirmed it, said she only calls him Rick when he's in trouble.

"Castle. Hi." She says, managing a smile for him. It's not altogether genuine, and he obviously knows her well enough to see that because he winces as he comes inside the room, the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement.

For a moment she thinks he's going to hug her, or maybe kiss her cheek again like he did last night. Yeah. . .that really didn't help with the whole lowering her heart rate thing. He doesn't though, opting instead to gently squeeze her bicep in greeting.

"Hey, Kate. How are you feeling?"

Shrugging, Kate takes a hesitant step away from the crowd of his body next to hers. He's a broad man, tall, and in the flat shoes her father brought for her she feels too vulnerable to even consider taking shelter against his chest. "Better. My vital signs are all good, now. I have to make an appointment with the therapist, but I can go home. Just waiting for Dad to come back from the bathroom."

"Listen, Kate." He starts, so hesitant with his hands pushed into the pockets of his slacks. He looks so innocent, like a little boy, and she's filled with the strange urge to coddle him, this man she barely knows. There's something about him that endears him to her; she doesn't know if it's the knowledge that they're married or just something in who he is, but she wants to protect him from any more hurt.

At the very least, she can hear him out. "I know that this is hard for you, and I would understand if you wanted to stay with your dad for a while. But all of your things are at our place, and the doctors think if you surround yourself with familiarity it might help."

Oh god. He looks so desolate as he watches her, so without hope, and she really does hate that she's doing this to him. It's clear for everyone to see how much he cares for her; one of the nurses this morning told her after Castle had left that she's never seen such a devoted husband. But even so. "Castle, I'm not- I only just met you last night. I can't just fall right in to being your wife."

"No, of course not. I'm not expecting that." He hastens to explain, shifting from foot to foot. Looking away from her, he watches the bustle of the nurses at the station and it gives her the opportunity to watch _him_, the hard edge of his jaw and the rough-cut slope of his nose. "I'll take the guest room, of course."

"I can't ask you to stay in the guest room of your own house." She says indignantly, hearing it in her own voice. And the shame, too. Here he is, bending over backwards to try and accommodate her, and she has nothing to offer him in return."

One of the nurses walking past does a double take, glances again at Castle's face and when he smiles at her, the young woman flushes bright pink and hurries away to carry out her duties. It makes Kate grin to see it, the effect he has on those around him. He's an attractive man, she won't deny that.

And the way he looks at her. . .it does send a shiver of delight coursing through her. It's just that she doesn't know anything about the history of those looks, where the love in his eyes came from, and she can't even begin to return it.

Castle turns back slowly to look at her, and something in his face makes the decision for her, before he even speaks. "It's our home, together. You should be in your own bed."

"Okay, I'll try. But if it gets too much. . ."

The smile he gives her splits his whole face in two and it's infectious, planting a seed of mirth at the corner of her own mouth that has her echoing his grin. He's nodding at her, still beaming, and looking as if he would lay down at her feet if that's what she wanted. "You'll go stay with your dad. Of course."

She nods back at him, for a silly moment almost holds out her hand so they can shake on it. Instead, she pushes it down into the depths of her pocket and dips her chin, feels ridiculous to be standing here sharing a smile with her husband, the stranger.

And then his face falls and he touches her arm, guides her over to sit sideways on the hospital bed next to him. Her heart sinks and she folds her arms over her chest as if in protection, tilts her body a little way away from his.

"Before you come home, there's something else you need to know." He starts, and the sheer terror in his voice makes her heart kick hard in her chest, her hands shake. Whatever this is, the secret he's clearly been keeping, it's not good.

"Okay."

"I uh. . .probably should have told you sooner. I just didn't want to overwhelm you." He's fiddling with his wedding ring again, twisting it around and around his finger and it's really starting to make her nervous.

"What is it, Castle?" She bites out, more acerbic than she really meant to. It's just so frustrating, to be moving through her life almost blind. No idea what could be around the corner, what horrific thing she's going to have to relive.

Castle sucks in a deep breath at her side and twists around so their knees bump, his eyes holding hers. "You and I have a son together, Kate. We have a little boy."

It feels like a punch to the gut, her organs writhing in protest of the words and she presses a hand to her mouth, for a moment thinks she might actually throw up. Slamming her eyes closed, she focuses only on breathing. A couple of tears spill free from behind the barrier of her lids and splash onto the tile, her head bowed. She doesn't even care, can't muster up a shred of dignity to be ashamed that he's watching her cry when her whole body is consumed with self-loathing.

And yes, anger at him, too. "We have a child, and you're only just telling me?"

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, and she notices with a strange sense of detachment that he's crying too, not even trying to hide it from her. "I just didn't want to bombard you with information."

"I have a baby and I don't remember him." She chokes on a sob, not even sure why she's saying this out loud except that if she doesn't it'll stay inside and fester and rot and she will topple right in to that hole of grief.

Castle wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her in against his chest and she goes, no energy left to even fight him on this one. And clearly he needs the comfort of her body in his arms, too. She's denying him their whole life together; she won't deny him this.

"Oh god, sweetheart, don't cry." He breathes against her hair and she stifles another sob, her palm still pressed over her mouth.

Grief chews at her, a hungry mouth opening wide and she doesn't know what to do, can only clutch at his shirt in her free hand and ride out the wave of devastation. "What kind of mother am I that I can't even remember my own child?"

"Oh, Kate." He breathes, easing her to sit up straight and swiping at her tears with his thumb, tucking her hair back out of her face. "The best kind. Marlow adores you, and you adore him right back. You're wonderful with him."

"His name is Marlow?"

Oh god. Her son. She has a little boy, a tiny person that she and this man made together, that grew inside of her for nine months and she doesn't know him. Can't picture his face, doesn't know how he smells or what his laugh sounds like when she tickles him to make it come spilling out.

She doesn't know what it was like to be pregnant, to feel the pulse and kick of life inside her belly. Can't even imagine the astonishment, the adoration she must have felt when they placed the squirmy, red little body on her chest in the hospital.

All of it is missing. Her little boy.

"Yes. Marlow Alexander. We call him Mal."

"How old is he?" She manages to ask. There are so many things she needs to know about her baby, so many questions crowding her tongue, but this seems most important.

Castle grins, tugging his phone free from his pocket and scrolling through his camera roll. "He's two."

He holds up his phone for her to see and she turns her head away, refuses to look. "I don't want the first time I see my son to be in a photograph." She grits out and Castle makes an anguished noise at her side, shoves his phone away again.

"We were about to start trying for another baby before-" She snaps around to look at him, sees that he's just as startled as she is by that declaration. Holy crap. Apparently the 2018 version of herself is really taking the whole marriage and babies thing seriously.

"Shit, Castle. What am I going to do?" She moans, pressing her palms into her eyes again. It blinds her momentarily so when she looks at him he's just a blurred outline.

A blurred outline that's reaching for her again, tangling their fingers and setting the clasp of their hands at his knee. The physical contact is rankling her already; she can accept it now since she's pretty much falling apart here, but if he keeps touching her when they get home she doesn't know what she's going to do. She really doesn't want to have to ask him to keep his hands to himself.

"It's okay, Kate. Shh, come on. It'll be alright." He soothes, and it makes her straighten her spine.

She's going to be horrible at this, she knows already. Growing up, she was never really a baby person. Certainly not one to fawn over them and want to kiss their chubby little toes. So how, exactly, is she supposed to step into the shoes of the mother that Marlow has had for the past two years?

God, she doesn't even know how to change a diaper. "What if I can't love him? What if-"

"No, no. Don't think that way. You'll love him, I promise you. It's impossible not to." Castle chuckles at the end, shaking his head, and she wishes so badly she knew what memory he was seeing now. Wishes she knew more about her son than only what she could have just as easily gleaned from a basic fact sheet.

Chewing on her lip, she looks at her husband and feels the crease between her eyebrows deepening, carving into a trench as he watches. "I want to meet him. I want to go home."

"We'll go as soon as your dad gets back, okay?" He offers and she musters a nod.

When her father comes back into the room a couple minutes later, he doesn't seem at all surprised to see the two of them still holding hands. But then, she supposes she's the only one for whom the contact between them is anything out of the ordinary.

"Jim, Kate's going to come home with me, so we can go our separate ways." Castle is saying to her father, standing up from the bed and drawing her up with him. It's just too weird to still be holding hands with him and so she untangles herself, trying not to be too brutal as she does.

"Okay." Her father says amiably, drawing her in for a hug. "Katie, if it gets too much, if you need anything, call me and I'll be right there sweetheart."

She frowns at her father for that, for insinuating in front of Castle that he's not good enough. As true as it might turn out to be, she doesn't want him to get his feelings hurt. He doesn't seem too concerned though, shrugging off the hurt and following her father to the door.

Kate hesitates a moment in the middle of the room, and then she draws a deep breath and steels herself to face a world that has met with ten years of change since she saw it last.


	4. Chapter 4

**Jane Doe**

* * *

When Castle unlocks the door to the loft and swings it wide open, Mal and Alexis are sitting on the floor of the living room with the coffee table pushed over to one side and a tarp sheet spread out underneath them. Mal has his little plastic easel set up and an apron that reaches all the way down to his ankles, paint all over his hands and on his cheeks too.

Castle's daughter has her hair caught up in a knot with wisps falling out around her face and she grins when she sees her father, and Kate behind him hovering in the threshold. Marlow has his back to the door and he doesn't notice his parents' arrival, protesting loudly when his big sister takes away the paintbrush and peels his apron up over his head.

And then Alexis plants her hands at his shoulders and spins him around, points him in the right direction. He sees Kate and his whole face lights up, a grin splitting wide as he charges towards her on chubby little legs. "Mommy!"

"Hi Mal." Castle grins, reaching down to ruffle his son's hair when their boy makes it over to them.

Marlow winds himself around Kate's legs and looks up at her, his chin pillowed against her thigh. He reaches an arm up, still grinning, and Rick's wife shoots him a hesitant look. "Should I. . .pick him up?"

"If you want to." Castle says, drawing her further inside the loft with a hand cupped at her elbow so he can close the door behind them. She's stiff and awkward and their little boy is still clinging to her legs, his little face creased up in confusion because Mommy hasn't picked him up yet.

Usually Kate swings him up into her arms the moment she walks through the door and plasters his face with kisses, nuzzling into him and whispering words of love against his ear. Not this time. There's a moment of hesitation, a horrible sinking in Castle's guts as he considers the possibility that Kate is going to peel their child away from her and run right back out of the loft again.

It feels monumental that she be receptive to their little boy now. Because there is no possible way to explain to Marlow what's wrong with Mommy. Rick is just about to say something, maybe pick Mal up himself, and then Kate hooks her hands underneath Marlow's arms and lifts him up, cradling him close as if by instinct.

"Hey there, Marlow." She murmurs to their son, and her whole face breaks open in delight when Mal nuzzles in close at her neck. She looks much the same as she did in the hospital when they first placed him on her chest and she smoothed her palm over his little skull, laughing in absolute euphoria even as she cried. Kate has just fallen in love with their son again, he can see it all over her.

It takes her a moment, but then she manages to look away and shift him to her hip so she can get a hand free to offer to Castle's daughter. "You're Alexis, right?"

On the way home he debriefed Kate a little, explained about his daughter. That she lives across town but she'd be at the loft taking care of Mal. She'd surprised him, actually, because she'd already known that he has a daughter. It's interesting to see how much more of what she knows about him Beckett is willing to divulge this time around.

"Yes. How are you feeling?" His daughter says, unwinding the ponytail holder from her hair and raking her hands through it. She's wearing an old button down of his she must have found with the craft things; it's already paint splattered from when Kate has worn it to get creative with their little boy.

Alexis seems more self-conscious around Kate than she has done in years but then, he supposes, this woman isn't really Kate. She's mostly Beckett, and she doesn't remember any of the shared history she's created with Castle's daughter.

Not the respect that a fifteen year old Alexis had for the graceful, enigmatic detective when the two first met. Not the tentative friendship that blossomed into a mutual admiration, or the innumerable little ways Kate has been there for Alexis whenever Castle's daughter has needed it.

"Tired." Kate huffs a laugh, but even the fact that she's willing to admit that much is pretty astonishing. The woman he first met, nine years ago now, would never have admitted to being anything less than fine.

Maybe it's the fact that she's holding their son, right now, Marlow's face buried into the crease of Kate's neck and his hand fisted in the collar of her shirt. Kate glances down at the boy in her arms and then back up at Rick, her eyebrows furrowed. "Can I sit with him?"

"Kate." He says gently, trying desperately not to seem as if he's treating her with kid gloves. "You can do whatever you want. He's your son, this is your home."

She flushes at that, nodding once before she heads for the couch and sinks down into it gratefully. The exhaustion is hitting her hard, he knows, but Marlow wriggles around until he's sitting on her thighs, facing her with his hands pressed against her cheeks as he squirms with delight. "Mommy. Hi. I missed you."

Her breath catches when their son calls her _Mommy_ and from across the room Rick can see her eyes flood with tears, the desperate way she tries to blink them back. Mal presses a smacking kiss to her nose, totally oblivious, and chatters away to his mother, telling her all about the adventures he's had with his sister while his parents have been gone.

Castle watches for a moment and then, satisfied that Kate can handle their son for the time being, he turns back to his daughter. "Pumpkin, thank you so much for everything."

"No problem, Dad." Alexis shrugs, tugging open the closet and reaching inside for her coat. She slips it on and flips her hair out from underneath the collar, stoops to grab her shoes and tug them on as well. "I have to head out now, I said I'd try and make it to work this afternoon. But if you guys need anything, if you need me to take Mal for a few hours and give you some space, just let me know."

"I will do sweetheart, thank you." Rick says, pressing a kiss to the top of his daughter's head and opening the front door of the loft for her. He watches her move all the way down the corridor and turn the corner and then he closes the door and heads back to join the rest of his family on the couch.

"Daddy." Marlow beams at his father, curling up against Kate's chest again. Her arms slide around him and he plays with the wedding ring she still, miraculously, hasn't taken off. Her engagement ring is inside of the jewellery box in their bedroom, too obtrusive to wear every day at the precinct, but the wedding band is simple and smooth and the only time she's taken it off since he slipped it on in front of everyone they love was during the last few weeks of her pregnancy, when her fingers were too swollen for her to be able to wear it any longer. "Mommy is home."

Rick grins, smoothing his thumb over some of the vivid orange paint streaked across their son's cheek. It's dried now, crusted onto his skin, and it's going to take some serious scrubbing in the bath tonight to get him clean. "She is. Did you and Alexis have lunch?"

"My sister not make lunch. We waited for Mommy." Marlow grins up at his mother, looking so proud of himself that it makes Kate smile back, apparently unable to help it. She's so beautiful like this, uninhibited and totally taken in by their son, and he wants so badly to just lean in and kiss her.

Very bad idea, Rick. Instead, he stands up from the couch and gathers his son into his arms, pressing a smacking kiss to the boy's cheek. "Come on then, my man. Let's make something delicious to welcome Mommy home."

"I'll help." Kate says, rising from the couch and following him towards the kitchen. "I guess I'd better start learning where everything is."

Castle deposits their son in the high chair and he immediately starts up playing with his action figures, Spiderman and Batman going head to head in a violent clash of wills. The two of them watch their son for a moment and Rick feels his face going soft with tender amusement, his eyes getting a little misty. "I was thinking grilled cheese and tomato soup. That work for you?"

"Sounds great. But I guess you already knew I like that, huh?" She lifts an eyebrow at him, hovering awkwardly just on the outside of the tile. It's too hard to watch her like this, so uncertain in their kitchen when just yesterday morning he found her dancing around as she cooked breakfast, she and Marlow singing along to the radio together.

"Yeah. I knew. You good to make the sandwiches and I'll heat the soup?" He asks and she nods, finally steps around the counter and inside of the kitchen with him. Rick busies himself with finding a can of soup in the pantry and opening it, starting to heat it on the stove. He's careful not to watch her as she gathers things for their sandwiches, opens a couple of wrong drawers in her quest to find a knife. Unless she asks him explicitly where something is, he won't tell her. Last time she learned her way around his kitchen he didn't hold her hand and guide her through, and he won't do it now either.

When she finishes up with the sandwiches Castle takes the plate from her so he can grill them, watches from the corner of his eye as she hovers a moment before rounding the counter to slip onto a stool next to their son. "Hey buddy. You having fun?"

"Spiderman did a web and Batman falled down and it got all sticky on him and them are fighting." Mal explains the game to his mother, handing one of the dolls over to her so she can hold it steady for him to smack the other figurine against it. "But it's okay, Mommy. Them are still friends."

Kate smiles at that, leaning in to kiss Marlow's cheek like it's the most natural thing in the world, like it doesn't have Rick's heart pounding so hard in his chest he's pretty sure he's about to choke on it. Somehow he manages to finish up grilling the sandwiches and warming the soup without collapsing, the soft sounds of his wife and son playing together making him want to wriggle with delight.

Instead, he plates up their lunch and comes around the counter to sit at Kate's other side, sandwiching her between himself and their son, and the three of them eat lunch as though it's just a normal day.

* * *

After they were finished eating she tried to help clear up and Castle swatted her away, but it didn't feel like he was doing it because she's suddenly a guest in their own home. It felt like it's something he does every time they eat together. And maybe normally she muscles her way in and helps him out anyway, distracts him with a kiss or the press of her body, but today she slinks away and curls up on the couch instead.

Marlow is playing on the floor at her feet, building a tower with his blocks and then ramming his toy truck into it over and over, and Kate pillows her cheek against the couch cushion and watches her son. Castle is right. She's completely in love with him already. Having him in her arms, warm and snuggly and calling her _Mommy_. . .nothing has ever felt so perfect.

He's a gorgeous kid, a happy kid, and she's so grateful to see that at least this she's managing not to screw up. Marlow seems oblivious to the fact that she barely knows him and it's one less disappointment, one less way she's letting Castle down. And she's made the decision, already. She won't walk away from her son, wants to do the very best by him that she possibly can. So if that means she has to let Castle in, parent their son together. . .that's what she'll do.

As if just thinking his name has made him materialise, Castle appears at her side and joins her on the couch, squeezing her knee a moment before he drops his hands to rest against his thighs and watches their son. Kate pulls her cell phone free – someone rescued it from the battered shell of her car and gave it to one of the nurses to give back to her – and holds it up. "Do you know how I can unlock this? And. . .how to work it?"

"Oh, right." Castle laughs, taking the phone from her. "I forgot. Did they even have iPhones where you're from?"

"Where I'm _from_?" She says sharply, raising both eyebrows at him and stitching her mouth into a seam. Mostly in annoyance, yes, but also. . .that's sort of funny. Only a little bit. But funny.

Castle falls all over himself to explain, his cheeks stained a vivid pink and his eyes wide. "I didn't- you're not- not an _alien_, Kate- I'm. You know what I mean."

"I do." She murmurs, helping him out of the hole he's digging for himself. "Do you know my password?"

He nods, swiping his finger across the screen of her phone to bring up all of the numbers. He taps them out for her, slowly enough that she can see, and then the home page of her cell phone flares to life. "One nine zero eight. Mal's birthday and our wedding anniversary."

"Mal's birthday is. . ."

"June, 2016. And we got married in July of 2014." He smiles at her, handing her cell phone back and tugging his own phone out of his pocket. "Mine's two four six two, for the letters of the kids' initials. Alexis Harper and Marlow Alexander. But actually babe, they both have fingerprint recognition. Just hold your finger down on that little circle."

Babe? She wrinkles her nose but doesn't comment, letting it slide for now. There are more pressing concerns. "Right. Okay. And is Captain Montgomery's number still the same? I need to call and tell him what's going on."

Just like that, all the colour drains away from Castle's face and he turns his head away from her, his eyes slamming closed. His hands are in fists against his knees and he looks so completely wrecked by whatever it is that she's oblivious to that her heart lurches in sympathy and panic both. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you didn't. It's me. I'm the one in the wrong." He grunts, and then he straightens up and reaches for her hand. "We should talk in the office. I don't want to do this in front of him."

Their son glances up at them when they stand up from the couch but he doesn't seem too concerned that they're going someplace else. Apparently his game is too exciting to warrant leaving. Kate lets Castle keep a hold of her hand as they walk through the living room, mostly because he looks as if he's teetering on the very edge of collapse.

In the office, he brings her with him over to the window seat and they settle down together, their knees not quite touching. "Kate, I'm so sorry. I should have told you this as soon as you woke up. There are just. . .so many things. I don't know which are most important to you."

"Castle." She interrupts him, her voice tentative but unashamed. "I don't know much about the person I am now. But from what I've seen, from what my dad has told me, you and our son are the most important thing to me."

He sucks in a sharp breath and clutches at her hand again, his thumb circling at her knuckles. "Kate. I'm so sorry. Captain Montgomery died in May of 2011."

"Oh." She says, because what else is there? Her mentor, her captain, her _friend_. Gone, for seven years, but the shock of it is instant, feels brand new. And every new piece of information he divulges just screams at her that her memories are never coming back.

There's no flicker of recognition, no kind of forewarning from her subconscious, and surely if she was to remember anything it would be this? It would be this, or it would be her son. "What happened?"

"It was part of a bigger conspiracy. And I will tell you everything, I promise you that. But not now. Not with our son in the next room." He says, his voice thick with desperation and he glances through to the living room to check on Marlow.

Oh god. Right. She's a mother, now. She can't be so selfish. Everything she does, every choice she makes in this life has to be tempered with how it might affect her little boy, how best to keep him safe. Only, this life isn't hers, not the one she knows. And already the rabbit hole is opening wide underneath her. "Castle. . .is this about my mom?"

"Yes. It is." He admits, and she folds her arms against her chest, half wanting to draw her knees up as a further barrier. "Kate, I promise you. I'll explain everything. But tonight, after he's asleep. Please just trust me."

It's irrational, and unfair of her, but anger flares hot and sickening inside her. This is her _mother_, this case the most important thing in her life. Compared to this stranger? It's not even a choice. "I don't know you! I don't even know who the hell I am! How do I know that I can even trust you?"

"Kate, please." He begs, but when she stands up from the couch and starts pacing he makes no move to stop her. "Please just wait a little bit longer."

"I've been waiting nine years." She spits at him, her whole body shaking with rage. And then it hits her. It's not nine years, it's nineteen. And next year? Next year she will have lived longer without her mother than she did with her.

The thought makes her stomach roll and she presses a hand over her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks. It feels like all she's done is cry since she woke up in this strange new world and she _hates_ it, feels so bitter with the weakness.

And it really doesn't help that every time she does, Castle looks like he wants to hold her so desperately, wants to absorb as much of her grief as she'll allow him to. But she can't bring herself to allow him anything.

"Kate, baby, listen to me. I know this case is so important to you. I've been right here by your side for it this whole time, I've seen what it does to you. And I'm not saying I won't tell you ever. But we need to sit and go over everything, I need to explain the whole story and show you the evidence and let you have space to process it. And you can't have that space with a toddler who'll come looking for Mommy in the next five minutes."

"I'm not your _baby_." She grits out, but she knows he's right. The asshole. All the fight drains out of her and she sinks down into the couch again, drops her head to her hands. "The moment he's asleep, you tell me everything."

"I will. Of course." He promises, and then she hears quiet footsteps pattering their way into the study. "Hey there, my man. Sorry Mommy and Daddy were shouting."

That's sweet of him, to shoulder the blame like that. They both know she's the only one who has been shouting, the only one who's screwing up their son. Kate lifts her head and opens her arms to him, needing the comfort of that warm little body at her chest. "Come here, baby."

He does, climbing right up into her arms and nuzzling at her neck. He's still got one of the blocks clutched in his fist and he balances it carefully on his father's knee, chokes out a bubble of laughter when Castle makes his knee bounce and the wooden brick falls down.

"I'm sorry, Mal." Kate murmurs for her son, finding that the nickname trips off of her tongue so very easily. "I was just a little bit upset."

"Daddy kiss you better." Marlow declares, looking expectantly at his father. When Castle doesn't move their son huffs and pats Kate's cheek, curls his fist in Castle's collar and drags him in close enough that Kate can feel the curl of his breath along the crag of her jaw. He waits, and she gives him a barely perceptible nod, _for Mal for Mal for Mal_ clattering its way through her brain.

Castle – her husband, she keeps forgetting – presses a careful kiss to the underside of her cheekbone, lingering long enough to appease their son. Long enough, in fact, that Marlow pushes him away again and groans dramatically, flopping almost out of Kate's grip. "Gross kissy face, Daddy."

"Sorry, little man." Castle grins, and then he gets this mischievous look on his face that makes him look exactly like their son and he leans in slowly. Kate figures out what he's doing and plays her part, holding Marlow still so Castle can lean in and press an open-mouthed, slobbery kiss to Marlow's cheek.

Grief is still clawing at her throat, a heavy weight in her belly, but the shrieking laughter of her son somehow makes it all seem if not better, at least manageable. This time, she won't let the textured darkness of loss close over her head. Not when there's this little person who needs her so very much.

Kate yawns wide, the exhaustion of the past couple days and all of the revelations she's been hit with smacking into her full force. She didn't get a lot of sleep in the hospital last night, was more lucid than she knows Castle thought. Lucid enough that she heard much of what he whispered to her, felt the salt-slick pool of his tears against the back of her hand.

"You should take a nap, Kate." Castle says, and then he grins. "Actually, Mal, it's nap time for you too buddy."

"I nap with Mommy?" Their son says hopefully, and Castle shoots her a questioning look.

She wasn't expecting it, but having Marlow close is making everything seem that little bit brighter. And it's good to feel so needed, to have this person who loves her so deeply and expects so little from her in return.

Well. . .that's not fair. Castle hasn't asked her for anything more than she's willing to give. His patience with her has been staggering, actually. "Sure. Let's nap together."

"Great. I'm going to make some calls, let everyone know that you're doing okay." And that she still doesn't remember, but he's kind enough not to voice that part. Kate lets Marlow down and their son toddles off towards what she assumes is the bedroom.

It takes her a second, a moment to recalibrate, and then she can follow him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Jane Doe**

* * *

While Kate is asleep, Castle phones her father and his mother and Lanie and Captain Gates and Ryan (Javier too, by proxy). A whole ream of people that care about her so deeply, want to be updated on how she's doing. And to each of them he has to say that no, she still doesn't remember anything.

His mother is melodramatic about it, of course, declares that she'll be on the next flight home, and it takes him a considerable amount of time and effort to persuade her that that really wouldn't be a wise idea. Kate is overwhelmed enough by everything that's going on without adding his mother into the mix. He loves her, he does, but she can be. . .a lot to handle.

Once all of the conversations are over, he sinks into the couch with his head in his hands and takes a moment to fall apart. His sobs are hulking, wreaking havoc through his whole body, but he manages to keep them mostly silent, manages not to wake her. She needs the sleep, needs to let her body heal. And maybe when her body heals, her mind will too.

Eventually, he's able to get himself together. He stands up, washes his face in the guest bathroom, drinks down another bottle of water in a few short gulps. And it does help, has him feeling a little bit more human. Like he has a firmer grip on things. Yes, the woman he loves doesn't remember any of their life together. But she's alive, she's _here_ and she's completely in love with their son. He has to count his blessings.

After an hour or so, Mal comes toddling through from their bedroom and climbs right up into his father's lap on the couch, curling up small and rubbing his little nose against Castle's cheek. Rick palms the back of his son's head to give him that feeling of closeness and safety he craves so much, his thumb stroking back and forth over the shell of Marlow's ear. "Hey there, my man. Have a good nap?"

"Hi Daddy. Mommy still sleeping." Mal says in answer, his eyelids fluttering closed even as he fights to look at his father. Castle knows that feeling all too well, the treacherous climb up out of sleep, scrabbling to find a foothold to consciousness. It takes them a while, he and Mal both; Kate is awake and ready to go the moment her eyes open.

Well, usually. Right now she's concussed, so he imagines it might be a little more of a challenge for her. "Yeah, I know. Mommy's head hurts and she needs to sleep so she can feel better."

"Why Mommy's head hurt?" Mal frowns, a line of tension zipping through his little body as he twists and torques to glance at their bedroom. He's such a loving child, so generous with his heart, and the brunt of his adoration is usually offered up to Kate.

Castle manages to soothe his son with the drift of his hand up and down the boy's spine, pressing just hard enough that it makes Marlow relax back against his chest. "Mommy got into an accident, buddy. But she'll get better soon. You just need to be a little bit careful with her for a while."

"I be so gentle, Daddy." Mal nods sombrely, his eyes wide. There's a moment of quiet and then Marlow looks up at Rick, a spark of mischief in his eyes and his mouth quirked up at the corner. "We can watch cartoons while Mommy sleeping."

It's not a question, and Rick huffs a breath of laughter as he reaches for the iPad on the coffee table and hands it over to his son. The television is in his office, too close to the bedroom to be watching while Kate's asleep, but the iPad is a good compromise.

Their son is two, only two, but he knows how to unlock the iPad and bring up Netflix, find the show he wants to watch. Castle folds the cover into a triangle shape to use as a stand and sets the tablet on the couch cushion next to him, shifting Mal off of his lap to lay down in front of the cartoons instead.

Marlow's feet drum against his father's thigh as the characters on screen do battle and Rick tugs his phone out of his pocket and brings up the app with his emails, deletes a couple of random marketing ones. There's one from Paula about an interview on one of the late night talk shows; the book comes out next week and he knows he's frustrating her with his complete lack of willingness to market the thing.

He has a little boy, a family, and they are his main priority. If he does a talk show and Kate is all tangled up in a case, who's going to look after their son? He replies something noncommittal, tells her he'll have to discuss it with Kate. For a moment, he debates telling his agent that his wife has, in fact, forgotten the entirety of their life together. And then he locks his phone and shoves it back inside his pocket, sets a hand at the curve of his son's back and drops his head to the couch cushion, closing his eyes.

Last night he didn't get any sleep and now he is totally wiped out, but Kate needs the sleep more than he does. He'll just have to struggle through. After Castle hears the end credits for the cartoon Marlow is watching run for the second time, he struggles out of his doze and heads for the bedroom to wake his wife. She's been napping for almost two hours and if she doesn't wake up now she'll find it much harder to sleep tonight.

Castle nudges the bedroom door open with his hip and slips quietly inside, his whole body orienting towards the slender line of the woman he loves underneath their sheets. The blinds are slatted closed but the sun outside manages to wriggle its way through the gaps regardless, the window streaked with lines of luminescence.

He rounds the bed to reach her side and kneels down next to her, heart catching in his throat at the way her cheek scrunches up against the pillow. Her hair is fanned out around her head, starting to grow out again after she cut it short last year. Mal used to grab for handfuls of it whenever his mother was near, and one day she came home with it just brushing her shoulders.

She's gorgeous, truly. And yes okay, so he's a little biased. He did marry her after all. But he's not oblivious to the way people in the street watch them, the diffusion of jealousy across the faces of strangers when Rick slips his hand into hers and leans in close to kiss the cheek of their little boy.

Reaching out, Rick tugs the sheets down a little to expose the smooth, bare skin of her shoulder. She's wearing a tank top now and he imagines her rummaging through her drawers in their dresser, rifling through clothes that must be largely foreign to her. Obviously, he has no idea what she wore to sleep in that first year they were together, but all those boat necks and the pinstriped button downs and the sharp-cut black pantsuits? He doesn't see those any more. Stands to reason that her sleepwear is all different now too.

If this was any normal day and she remembered that she loves him, Rick would lean in slow, knowing that just his proximity would wake her. He would brush his mouth to her eyelid, her cheek, and when his lips met hers she would sigh and roll onto her back and lace her arms at his neck to drag him half up into the bed with her.

Instead, he squeezes her shoulder and calls her name quietly, his thumb circling over the scattering of freckles just next to the rise of her collar bone. She gets them every summer, when she manages to get out of the precinct long enough for the sun to kiss her bare skin and leave its mark.

Kate rouses slowly, her eyelids coming open and her mouth parting, tongue slipping out to wet her lips. She stares at him with that same sheen of nonrecognition he's quickly getting used to, and he knows without even having to ask that none of her memories are back. "Hey. I didn't want to let you sleep any longer, in case you don't sleep tonight."

"Thanks." She murmurs, sitting up in bed and letting the sheets pool around her waist. The tank top she's wearing is really very tiny and there's just so much skin on show that he doesn't know what to do with himself. Kate rakes both hands through her hair to push it away from her face and tucks it back behind her ears, blinking hard and gazing around the room as though she's surprised to find herself here.

Which, yeah. . .she most likely is. "You feeling any better?"

"Headache's gone." She nods, pushing the sheets back and swinging out of bed. And oh, shit, his mouth goes totally dry because she's wearing those teeny tiny little camouflage sleep shorts and he doesn't even know where to _look_ and honestly. How can she not know what this is doing to him?

Over by the dresser, he watches as she secures her father's watch around her wrist and checks the time, raising an eyebrow when she sees just how long she slept for. "I noticed in the hospital, they gave me this back. I was wearing it when I had the accident. But not my mother's ring?"

"Ah, yeah. You don't really wear it anymore." He says, getting up from the floor and coming to join her at the dresser.

Clearly she hasn't missed the huff of his breath, the wince when he stood. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Just my knee. I broke it once and it gives me grief sometimes, that's all." He explains, keeping a careful distance between them. Things are tentative, more awkward than they have been even since she woke up in the hospital. Because he knows she must be thinking only about the things he knows that he hasn't told her yet, the thirst for knowledge about her mother's case gnawing away at her.

To her credit, she really does seem to have accepted that he'll tell her later, because she doesn't bring it up. "How'd you break your knee?"

"Skiing. I was showing off for you and I fell. You uh. . .weren't very impressed." An understatement, if he's honest. He never will forget the way her face went almost as pale as the snow, her lips thin and white as she stroked her hands through his hair and tried to comfort him through the agony shooting in spirals all the way up into his hip and down to his toes. Yeah. That's one memory he's glad she's lost.

Kate lifts an eyebrow at him, looking both surprised and amused at once. Turning away from the mirror above the dresser, she leans back against it instead and wraps her hand around her opposite elbow. Closing herself off from him, but she's still here so he tells himself to be grateful anyway. "We went skiing?"

"We did. Well. You skied, I fell."

That earns him a laugh that bubbles up out of her and she shakes her head. When she goes quiet again he finds himself staring at her with naked tenderness and he catches a glimpse of his own face in the mirror, hastily schools it into something a little easier for Kate to handle. Neither of them says anything for a long moment, both so acutely aware of how much he loves her and how little he's able to hide it.

Eventually, Kate clears her throat and manages to look at him again. "Where's Marlow?"

"Watching cartoons on the couch. You seem. . .comfortable around him." Rick says tentatively, not wanting to make her feel self-conscious in her love for their son. Not when watching Kate and Marlow together makes him happier than he's ever been.

Kate rests her free hand at her hipbone, guarding herself further against him, and all of a sudden she looks so uncomfortable that he thinks he would remove his own skin if it made her feel any better. "I am, I guess. Maybe because he's so comfortable around me? Do you think it's too fast?"

"No, not at all." Rick says quickly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans to be sure he won't touch her. "He needs you, Kate. And you're doing a wonderful job so far. I know it must be hard."

That makes her shake her head, a smile just flirting at the corners of her mouth. "It's not hard at all. He's the person who expects the least from me. I'm not a disappointment to him every time I don't remember something."

"Oh, Kate." He murmurs, his eyes closing to hold the tears back. "You're not a disappointment to anyone. We all just care about you, that's all. I'm so glad you're here."

She nods, but he sees the shutters slam down and he knows he won't get anything more out of her for the time being. Instead, he squeezes her shoulder and leaves the room, gives her some time to regroup.

* * *

Bathing her son is quite possibly the most fun Kate Beckett has ever had. He's a giggly, squirmy little thing but Castle leaves the two of them alone, gives her the space to figure it out for herself and she gets sucked in. Thoroughly soaked, but she's laughing right along with her son as she massages the shampoo into his hair and then rinses it off for him, scrubs at his round little belly and chubby limbs with a sponge shaped into the Batman insignia.

Once he's clean and dry and in his pajamas Kate sits cross legged on his bed and watches him dance around in front of the bookcase, hardly able to keep still. That must be a trait he's gotten from his father, because Kate is too well practiced at yoga and at shooting to be so fidgety.

And isn't that a weird thought? Having a child, she's finding quite easy to get used to. But the knowledge that she made a whole other person, a beautiful mixture of them both, with _Richard Castle_? It takes her by surprise every time.

Marlow comes back and climbs into bed, struggling around until he's underneath the covers with his stuffed giraffe toy in his arms. He looks expectantly at her and Kate manoeuvres to lean back against the headboard with the book he chose, a hand to turn the pages and the other to smooth through her son's hair over and over.

She reads, with her little boy's breath fanning out hot against her hip, a snuffling sigh every couple of minutes. The story is new to her, of course, but the book is so well-thumbed that she can tell it has been dearly loved, either by Mal or by Alexis before him. When she finishes the story Kate sits for a couple of minutes just carding her fingers through Marlow's thick curls, coming down to brush her thumb over the curve of his cheek, the bow of his lips before she moves back up to start the cycle again.

There have been a lot of difficult things to get used to since she woke up in this life. The marriage to a man she doesn't know, the death of her captain, the loss of her apartment and ten whole years of her life. But out of it all she's gotten this wonderful little boy who adores her and who, already, she adores right back.

She takes the time to let Marlow's presence and his sleepy warmth fortify her and then she climbs carefully out of his bed and slots the book back into its place on the shelf, stooping by her son's side to kiss his forehead and murmur to him. "Goodnight, sweet boy. Mommy loves you."

And then she heads downstairs to find out how Captain Montgomery's death is connected to her mother's case, with the knowledge that no matter what she has to stay calm and rational. She can't shout, can't wake her sleeping child, and she can't walk out either. If he woke in the night needing her and she had walked away because she's still, ten years later, making the same stupid mistake of letting her mother's case be everything to her? She'd never forgive herself.

Castle is sitting at the dining room table with a manila folder in front of him that bursts at the seams, _Johanna Beckett Case_ printed across the front of it in her own neat hand. She doesn't remember writing it though, so this evidence file must have been compiled more recently than her memories cover.

There are also two mugs on the table, steam curling up out of them, and a box of tissues. Castle sits at the head of the table and Beckett takes the seat to his left, facing the staircase so if Mal comes out of bed looking for her she'll be able to see him coming.

"The evidence is all in here." Castle says, tapping two fingers against the folder in front of him. "But I think it'll be easier if I just tell it like a story. Easier for me to make sure I don't miss anything, and for you to follow. I'll try to be quick, though. You've waited long enough."

"Thank you." She nods, taking the mug he nudges towards her and wrapping both palms around it. Lifting it to her mouth, she takes a slow sip, surprised to find that it's tea. It's a good call though; they could both do without the extra stimulant of caffeine. Why does it surprise her, though, that he knows just how she fixes her tea if she drinks in the evening, and that it's different to how she does at other times of the day?

It's a disconcerting sensation, one she's still finding it very difficult to get used to. Having someone know apparently everything about her, when she knows almost nothing about him.

Castle takes a deep breath, and a swallow of his own drink, before he starts. "We met in March of 2009. You caught a case where the bodies were being staged to look like the murders from my books. You contacted me to see if I knew anything about it, and I helped you solve the case. And you gave me inspiration for a new series of books, so I started shadowing you at the precinct, helping you solve cases."

"Really?" She's surprised by that, in all honesty. Of all the ways she assumed she had met Castle, him working with her never even crossed her mind.

He grins at her, shrugging. "We worked well together. Anyway. When I first met you, I could tell that something had happened to someone you care about to make you choose the path of being a cop instead of a lawyer, like most smart, beautiful women. I assumed because of the watch that it was your father, but after our fifth or sixth case together you told me it was your mother."

"That soon?" She can't help asking, lifting an eyebrow at him. Usually it takes her a lot longer to expose that particular festering wound to people.

He nods, pressing his lips together a moment. "You trusted me, I guess." The use of the past tense isn't lost on her, but she can't correct him. Not right now. "When you told me, I did something very stupid. I started investigating it behind your back, even though you'd told me specifically not to. I was arrogant enough to think that I would be able to find something you'd missed."

"And did you?" Yes, thank you, she hears herself. She is so completely desperate for any scrap of information on this case, anything that gets thrown to her. It took a year of therapy to put it behind her, and so she isn't surprised that she warned him to back off. But clearly there's more here, so she wants to know. Needs to know.

"I did. I contacted Dr Clark Murray, a forensic pathologist who'd previously helped me with research for a book. He found that, although your mom was stabbed multiple times only one of those wounds was the fatal one and all of the others were added to make it seem random."

Relief wells up in her throat and her gaze snaps up from the folder to Castle's face, her mouth dropping open in something close to delight. "I knew it wasn't random. I was right."

"You were right about so much of it, Kate. Dr Murray analysed similar assaults from the same time, those of Diane Cavanaugh, Jennifer Stewart and Scott Murray, all of whom worked with your mom. The methods were the same for all of them, so he concluded that the three of them and your mother were all killed by a contract killer."

Castle swallows another mouthful of tea and fidgets in his chair, and she knows it's probably because the next part is going to be difficult, but she's grateful for the time to process that these three others were killed along with her mother.

And _for a reason_. Not randomly, not being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone set out to kill her mother, and that means there's a chance she can catch them. Maybe she already has. "And then what?"

"I tried to tell you what I found but you wouldn't hear it. You said you couldn't get sucked back down into that rabbit hole. And I thought I'd lost you as a friend, so I let it go and I apologised. And I was so amazed and so grateful when you forgave me." He smiles at her.

Wow. That's. . .a lot. "I don't forgive easily when it comes to my mother's case. I must have really liked you, even then."

"I certainly liked _you_." He grins, but he sobers quickly. "Uh. Yeah. We left it alone for about eight months. And then an enforcer for the Westies named Jack Coonan died in your jurisdiction. Lanie contacted Dr Murray because she recognised the way Coonan had been killed as being similar to your mother, and he confirmed it. We knew that whoever killed Coonan had also killed your mom and her colleagues."

"Who, Castle?" She almost growls at him. "Who killed my mother?"

He takes her hand and she lets him have it, finds it so limp she probably couldn't take it back if she tried. "Dick Coonan, Jack's brother. He took me hostage when we figured out it was him, and you had to kill him to save my life. Before he told you who hired him. I'm so sorry Kate."

"So I still don't know?" She says quietly, feels herself trembling. He holds her hand tighter in his own, but it doesn't stop the tremors from careening through the rest of her body.

He splutters to explain, his face desolate. "No, no. We do. I'm getting to it. I'm sorry because you had to kill him because of me. Because you might have known so much sooner."

She can only imagine the grief she must have felt at the time, having to shoot her only lead, her only hope of solving her mother's case. But she wouldn't have done it if she hadn't absolutely needed to. And maybe if she hadn't, Castle might have died. And she wouldn't have her son. "I'm sure I wouldn't have regretted it."

A smile flickers across his mouth at that and he nods, his fingers struggling to lace through hers. "You told me that someday you'd catch the sons of bitches that hired Coonan." She smirks, because that's clearly verbatim, sounds like exactly something she would say. "And that you'd like me around when you did. And Kate? I was. I was right there at your side."


	6. Chapter 6

**Jane Doe**

* * *

"What happened after Coonan?" She asks after a moment of letting that sink in. They've caught whoever it was, the man behind her mother's murder. All she has to do now is listen to the story, listen to how the pieces slot together, and in the end she'll be rewarded with the name.

She's finding it very difficult to be patient, but thankfully Castle must understand how the need for knowledge consumes her because he's being quick and thorough and exacting with the information he gives her. "After Coonan there was nothing for a whole year. And then in January of 2011, Raglan contacted you wanting to meet and tell you something about your mother's case." Castle steeples his fingers and rests them against the table. "He told us that he wrote her case off as random violence because he was told to. And that the story went back much further than we knew, seven years before your mom's murder in fact. But before he could tell us anything more, he was shot dead by a sniper."

"Oh my god. They shot Raglan too? Who _are_ these people?" She breathes, meaning the question to be rhetorical before she realises that Castle actually knows the answer. And interrupting won't get her there any faster. "Sorry. Go on."

"We talked to Raglan's old partner, Gary McAllister." He gives her a moment and she watches him take note of the flicker of recognition across her face. Of course she knows that name too, met Detective McAllister when she was nineteen years old and a hole the size of a mother had just been torn through her world. "McAllister said that Raglan had been deep in debt but then he wasn't, and that he suspected Raglan was running drugs. McAllister gave us the name Vulcan Simmons; Ryan knew him from when he was in narcotics, said Simmons got started running drugs in Washington Heights."

Oh god. She's so glad she's hearing all of this information at once, that there's an end in sight. And so astounded that she made it, lived through this. It goes so deep, tendrils of wrongdoing in all of the city's inner workings, and she doesn't understand how it didn't drown her. Maybe it has something to do with the man at the table with her now. "My mom worked with a group that were trying to clean up the drug trade in Washington Heights."

"I know." He says, looking so proud that she feels herself blushing like an idiot. "You made that connection back then too. We thought that maybe Coonan, as someone in the drug trade, would have known Simmons."

"That makes a lot of sense."

"It did." He agrees, and she frowns. It doesn't anymore? "We interrogated Vulcan, but he gave us nothing, and he pushed you too far. You shoved him up against the mirror and broke it, and Montgomery had to cut him loose."

Oh, God. Shame cuts her through and she hangs her head, sucks a breath through her teeth. It's not even a surprise, that she would have reacted that way. Her mother's case makes her vicious and stupid, and anyone probing at it ends up on the receiving end of her temper. Except, apparently, Castle. "Sounds like me."

She's sardonic, and he smiles in sympathy. "Yeah. Believe me, Kate. The way he was talking to you? If you hadn't gone for his throat I think I would have. But because of what happened, Montgomery took you off the case."

"I'm guessing that didn't stop me investigating." She huffs, and Castle laughs too.

"No, it did not. I came over to your place and we looked through the files again. I found some pictures your mom had taken in the weeks before she died. There were some awesome ones of teenage Katie Beckett, ice skating and decorating the tree."

Cheeks flaming, she rolls her eyes at him. "I'm sure you loved that."

"I really did. But then we saw that there were twenty four exposures in the roll of negatives but only twenty pictures. Those other four were pictures of the alley where your mother was killed."

"Why would she have pictures of the place where she was murdered?" Kate frowns. None of this is even starting to make sense. Even though Castle is telling the story with the benefit of hindsight, it seems like there were a lot of missing pieces they had to sort through before they got a clear picture.

Castle grins at that, his face dancing with mischief and making him look exactly like their son for a moment. "We wondered that then, too. I went back to try and find information on any other crimes committed in that alley."

"You did that for me?" She says softly, hardly able to believe it. Of the people she dated after her mother was killed, only Will Sorenson ever even knew that her mom had been murdered. But with this man, Richard Castle, she seems to have shared every detail of her mother's case.

"Kate." He says carefully, reaching for her hand once more. "Even at that point, I would have done anything for you." There's nothing to say to that, no way to react except to chew on her bottom lip and wait for him to continue. "Montgomery caught me at the precinct. You begged him to let you back on the case but he refused, and he put a protective detail on you. But in the meantime, Ryan and Esposito had made progress too."

"The boys helped?"

"Yes. The four of us did a lot of this together, Kate. We're a family." He gives her another moment to digest everything he's said, and then he lets go of her hand and places both of his flat against the table. "The boys found who shot Raglan, a Hal Lockwood. He'd bought drugs from a woman named Jolene."

"Jolene." She breathes, for no reason at all other than it helps her to keep track of this twisted warren of parts to this case.

"Yes. While the boys were figuring all of that out, I found the case in the alley. An undercover FBI agent named Bob Armen was murdered there. The guy convicted for it was a mob enforcer called Joe Pulgatti, and it was Raglan who arrested him."

A crease is steadily forming between her eyebrows but she's totally helpless to stop it, can only focus on breathing and trying to make sense of everything. "So it was Pulgatti that Raglan was trying to tell me about when they killed him?"

"Yeah. We went to go see him in prison. He told us that he was a witness to the murder, that three men in ski masks had tried to kidnap him and Armen. So then we thought, how did Raglan place Pulgatti in the alley if the only people there besides him and Armen were the kidnappers?"

"Holy shit." Kate says quietly, shoving her hair back behind her ears when it threatens to spill into her face. "Raglan was a kidnapper?"

Castle nods once, smoothing his fingertip along the edge of the file. "Yes. He and McAllister both, it seemed. And your mom was the only one who would listen to Pulgatti's story. McAllister told us that he and Raglan had been kidnapping mobsters for ransom money in an effort to clean up the city, but that he didn't kill your mother or any of the others. That it was someone else."

"Who?" She grits out, but Castle's shaking his head.

"He didn't say. Referred to him as The Dragon, and wouldn't say anything more."

"Goddamn it." Kate curses, slamming her fist down onto the table top, and Castle casts a worried glance towards the staircase. Shit. For a moment there – just a moment – she forgot about the little boy sleeping upstairs, the child she has to protect from all of this. They hold their breath, but there are no sounds, no indication that Kate has woken Marlow.

Castle covers her fist with his palm, his thumb stroking back and forth over her knuckles. "I know, Kate. All of the dead ends are frustrating. But I promise you, we're getting there." A pause, and then he ploughs ahead. "The boys were abducted by Lockwood."

"Oh, no. They got hurt because of me?" She whispers, a hand pressed to her mouth. This case is everything to Kate, and she would risk her own life at a chance to solve it, but she can't imagine she ever would have wanted the boys to do the same.

Shaking his head sharply, Castle squeezes her hand and she uncurls her fist, lets their palms kiss. "Not because of you. Because of Lockwood. We traced them to an abandoned warehouse, distracted the guard to get inside and we took Lockwood and his guys out."

"Wait." She frowns. He's gone into detail with everything else, but this he skips right over? "How did we distract the guard?"

He hesitates for a moment, and she thinks he might actually be blushing. "We pretended to be drunk, but it wasn't working, so I uh. . .I kissed you."

"You _kissed_ me." She smirks, lifting her eyebrows at him now. He squirms in his chair, again reminding her of their son. "I'm not sure that's police procedure."

"It worked!" He exclaims, so indignant that she's smiling despite herself. "And it was. . .amazing. It was the first time I'd ever kissed you, and you pretty much blew my mind."

She's blushing again, damn it, but he doesn't seem to mind. "So was that when we got together?"

"Oh. No. You were with someone else at the time. And back then, neither of us would admit how we felt." He shrugs like it's nothing, but she can see the hurt there he's working so hard to hide. "Anyway. After that, you visited Lockwood in the prison every week to ask who hired him."

Kate pushes the heels of her palms against her eyes and groans, bringing her hands down to cover her mouth. Her eyes close and she shakes her head, wanting to cry. "I'm guessing he didn't tell me?"

"No. You visited him for about four months and he gave you nothing. And then in May of 2011, things started happening again." He stops, pressing a fist to his mouth and watching her. "I'm sorry. This part is hard."

Right. He said earlier today that Montgomery died in 2011, in May. So Kate steels herself, prepares to compartmentalise this. She doesn't want to fall apart in front of him. Although, by the sound of things, she's done so countless times in the past. "Do you. . .want to stop?"

"No, no. It's better to just get it over with." He exhales a shaky lungful of air, fiddling with his wedding band again. Almost as if he needs the reminder that they made it to a point where they were married with a child and they were happy. Before she forgot. "Lockwood was released into the general population. He killed McAllister and escaped from custody. We found the guard who gave the transfer order, but when we went to question him he had been murdered."

Grief flares in her gut for the man whose name she doesn't even know. Another victim of this whole messy conspiracy, another family left to struggle around the ache of his absence. "What was his name?"

"Ryker. Kate, you remember how there was a third cop kidnapping mobsters with Raglan and McAllister?" He waits for her nod. "Well, the boys figured out that the third cop was Montgomery."

"Montgomery killed my mom?" She whispers, eyes filling with tears so Castle swims in her vision.

Immediately, he's grabbing for her hand and cradling it in both of his, lifting it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. "No, he didn't. He didn't. But. . .Montgomery killed Armen. And your mother died because of what he did."

She bows her head until her forehead almost kisses the solid oak of the dining table, grief swallowing her whole and then spitting her back out again, leaving her gasping for air.

"Montgomery lured you to an aircraft hangar. It was supposed to be so Lockwood could kill you, but he had called me too and I got you out of there. Roy took out Lockwood and all of the guys with him, but Lockwood shot him too. He died saving your life, Kate." Castle's voice is soft, as if it can lessen the blow of his words. And she is crumbling. She lived through all of this over a couple of years, but hearing it all at once is just. . .too much. "There's more. At his funeral, while you were giving the eulogy. . .you were shot."

She feels the knowledge like another bullet and she gasps, staring wide-eyed at him. "I was _shot_?"

"Yes. I tried to get to you, I tried to push you out of the way but I was too late." He's crying now, quietly and almost ashamed, but he doesn't try to stem his tears. Just watches her, lets her see all of his emotion.

She swallows, staring at him. This man really, really loves her. Apparently he values her life above his own. "You tried to take a bullet for me?"

"Yes. And I- that was the first time I told you I love you." He hangs his head, suddenly refusing to look at her. "Not that that mattered to you."

Kate frowns, running a mental inventory of her body. There hasn't been anywhere that pulls when she moves, and she hasn't really looked in the mirror to see a scar. "Where was I shot?"

"In the chest. I watched you die in the ambulance. You died again in surgery. And then you shut me – and everyone else – out of your life and didn't speak to anyone except your father for three months." He growls at her, his fists clenched.

It's the first time she's seen him angry with her. Since he walked into that hospital room and poured his relief into her mouth, he's been nothing but tentative and careful and kind to her. So it's wonderful to see him get mad, to see him push her for a reaction. "Well I probably had a lot of healing to do, Castle. What do you want me to do here? Explain myself? I have no _idea_ why I stopped talking to you."

"Right. Of course. You're right. It's not fair of me to get mad at you now." He says slowly, his whole body relaxing in increments. "You came back to the city eventually, and I was so glad to see that you were okay. I'd been so worried about you."

"Was that when we got together? When I came back?" She does wonder. After everything he's told her already, all of the things he's stuck by her side for, she can't imagine how she possibly could have resisted him. Especially once he said he loves her.

He snorts a laugh, the bitterness coming back just as easily as he let it drain away moments before. "No. You lied to me, said you didn't remember anything of the shooting. And you told me you couldn't have the relationship you wanted until you solved your mother's case."

Oh. That does sound like something she would say. An excuse she would give if she was running scared, trying to protect her heart. "You stuck by me through all of this?"

"You've always been worth it." He says quietly, managing a smile for her. "How could I regret any of it when I got to marry you? When we have the most amazing little boy?"

Her eyes close against that and she concentrates on not letting the tears spill, doesn't want him to think that she's crying because of the life she has now. That's so not it. "I wish I could remember."

"Me too. After you came back to the city, Kate, I got a call from a man named Mr Smith. Montgomery had sent him a file that he was using to blackmail whoever was behind your mother's murder, and keep you and Montgomery's family safe. But for the deal to stand, you had to stay away from her case. So I. . .lied to you, about it. Kept it from you, and got you to back off from the investigation."

He looks so ashamed that she can't even bring herself to be angry. She must have found out about his lies at some point, and from the look on his face now she probably got pretty mad at him when she did. So it really isn't fair to do that to him again. "Okay. Clearly I forgave you for that once already, if I married you."

"You did, yes. You stayed away from the case for several months after that. And then in May 2012 it all resurfaced again." His jaw cracks wide on a yawn and he scrubs at his eyes, clearly exhausted. But she's too selfish, too narrow-minded to tell him to shelve the discussion for now and get some sleep. She has to know. "We caught the case of a man named Orlando Costas, who had been killed. We found out that he'd been hired to steal some files from Montgomery's house, and that the person who killed him was the same man that shot you, a year before."

"Okay." She nods, feeling through the thin material of her tank top for the bullet scar. She finds it, raised underneath her fingers, and works at it as she listens.

"We identified him as Cole Maddox, and you and Esposito tracked him down and followed him to a hotel. You fought with Maddox and you ended up dangling from the roof. Ryan pulled you up before you could fall, but he had to tell Gates in order to get back up, and so you were suspended."

She frowns at him, tilting her head. This is the first time in all of this that he hasn't mentioned himself, that he hasn't been right by her side while she's faced this dragon. "Where were you?"

"I told you about the deal that I had, because I thought maybe it might make you stop. Because they were going to kill you if you didn't. I told you I love you, again, and I begged you to stop if you felt anything for me at all. But you wouldn't let it go. So I walked away. I couldn't watch you die again, Kate. I couldn't." He shakes his head, eyes spilling over with grief, and her heart cries out in sympathy.

From the little she knows, from what she's gleaned through his story, Richard Castle is a good man. A brave man, who has stood by her side, been her partner in all of it. And it sounds like she's thrown it all back in his face, time and time again. She must have had her reasons, but right now she doesn't remember any of them. "I'm sorry, Castle. I shouldn't have treated you that way. From what you've told me, I owe you my life multiple times over. I was very selfish."

"You were you." He shrugs. "Or, the person you were then. You were different after that. More willing to listen. Less ready to throw your whole life away. After you were suspended Kate, you showed up at my door soaking wet. You told me that Maddox got away and you didn't care, that you just wanted me."

Lifting an eyebrow, she asks for the third time. "Was that when we got together?"

"Yes." He grins, and she echoes his smile in spite of herself. "It was. Best night of my life, Kate. I only wish you could remember it."

She flushes, imagining in spite of herself what it would have been like. To be with this man after almost three and a half years of working together. From what he's told her, she must have been in love with him even then. She can't think of another reason she'd have let him stick around, shared her mother's case with him. "I wish I could too."

"So, after we had three rounds of really amazing sex." He smirks, grinning wider when she blushes. "We found that Maddox had gotten to Mr Smith, the man who was holding the deal with the dragon. We found Smith and he told us enough that we could find the file, but so did Maddox. It was rigged to blow and the explosion killed Maddox, but it also destroyed the file."

"So we were back to square one?" She sighs, drumming her fingers against the edge of the table.

Castle takes her hand and knots their fingers together, regarding her tenderly. "No, we were closer than ever. We pieced together some of the shredded pieces of the file and we saw that it had contained money orders, paid to the dragon by Raglan, McAllister and Montgomery."

"Did we get a name?" She grits out, the resolution to this thing so close she can almost take it.

Castle nods once, sharp, and squeezes her fingers. "The man who ordered the hit on your mother, who is behind this whole thing, is Senator William Bracken."

"A senator." She breathes out, searching his face. She doesn't even know what _for_, only that she's waited so long for this name and now she has it, she doesn't know how to react.

"Yes. But we couldn't do anything about it, then. The file wasn't sufficient evidence, and if we went after him you'd be a target. You confronted him in person and you made him think there was another copy of the file. You made the same deal with him, to keep yourself and everyone you care about safe."

"I made a deal with the man who killed my mother?" She frowns, totally unable to make sense of that. Why would she not go after him, try with everything she had to take him down?

Castle looks mournful, a sad smile twisting at his mouth. "You had gotten to the point by then where your safety was more important. We knew we'd get him someday, Kate. And you were okay with that. And then, a few months later, you stopped an assassination attempt and you saved Bracken's life."

"I saved his _life_?"

"That's who you are, Kate. Who you had become. That's the woman I married. You're not her, I know, and this is hard for you to understand. But Bracken owed you after that. It meant you were even more safe than you had been." He says quietly, the tip of his finger smoothing over the metal of his wedding band. "Over a year after that, after we'd gotten engaged, Bracken saved your life. You'd gone undercover as someone you thought was a drug courier to try and find a man named Lazarus, who was killing drug dealers. It turned out that Elena, the woman you were impersonating, was actually a contract killer. You faked a hit and were able to meet Lazarus, but it turned out that he was Vulcan Simmons."

"Oh, shit." She blurts out, startling them both. "That can't have been good."

"It wasn't. They took you to the woods and they were going to kill you, but then Elena saved you. She told you that Lazarus wanted you to live. We figured out that Bracken was Lazarus, and because he had saved you, you were even."

"Even as in, there was nothing to stop him from killing me?"

"Yes." Castle nods. "Kate, I don't want you to think that our lives were consumed by your mother's case. We were engaged, and we were so in love, and having so much fun planning our wedding."

She nods at that, smiles for him. There's no doubt that she was happy, even in spite of everything with her mother and Bracken. Her father even told her as much. "I know, Castle. My dad said we were happy together."

"I hope that we still can be. Even if you don't remember." Castle murmurs, wincing as if he expects her to yell.

She won't. This is her life now, and even if she doesn't remember how she got here, she's going to try and make the most of it. For her son, and for this man to whom she owes so much. "I can only hope that one day I'll love you as much as you love me"

"You. . .you're going to stick around? Give this a chance?" He seems so surprised, so cautiously hopeful, and this time it's her that takes his hand and not the other way around.

"Castle, we have a beautiful son. And you've been so good to me so far, patient and kind. I'd be an idiot to walk away from this life, even if it doesn't really feel like it's mine yet."

And then he's beaming at her, wide and beautiful and she dips her head, can't look at him. "I'm so glad, Kate. So glad."

"Castle." She hates herself a little for doing this, but she has to know. "Is there any more to the story? Or do I need to watch my back every time I go outside in case Bracken tries to kill me?"

"Oh, no." He splutters, huffing a laugh. "Let me tell you the final piece. Alright, in early May of 2014, a couple of weeks before we were supposed to be getting married, a man called Jason Marks was killed. He was a political consultant and you'd been running surveillance on him for a few weeks."

"Did you know?" Somehow, that close to their wedding, it seems vital that she'd been sharing this stuff with him.

He nods, his mouth lifting at the corner. "Yes, I knew. You were being careful, and we were doing it together as much as we could. I didn't _like it_, that risk so soon before our wedding, but I knew and I was okay with it. The boys found traffic cam footage of Jason Marks in a car near where his body was found, being driven by Vulcan Simmons."

"Simmons again." She says, more as a placeholder for herself than for him to respond to.

"Yes. It was Simmons that brought us to Marks. You were following Vulcan first, and then Marks was the connection between Simmons and Bracken that we had been looking for. Gates kicked you off the case because of your personal history with Vulcan, and when the boys questioned him they had to cut him loose. There was nothing to tie him to the car."

Kate nods, halfway expecting that. And, yeah, she knows herself. "Okay, so I'm guessing I went after him myself?"

"Yeah. You snuck out while I was sleeping and you found the car, but Vulcan showed up. And then, Kate, he was murdered. With your gun." Castle leans back in his chair, shaking his head. "They were framing you. We found out about a tape that Montgomery had recorded in which Bracken confessed to murdering your mom. And then we found it, Kate. It was inside of the elephants at the precinct, the ones that used to belong to your mother. And with that evidence, you had enough to arrest him. You did it, Kate. He's in jail now, maximum security, and he's going to rot there for the rest of his life."

"It's over." She breathes, and then the tears come. Her shoulders shake with her sobs and she's barely even aware of Castle moving until his arms are around her and he's pulling her to her feet, bringing her with him over to the couch and holding her close as she cries.

His hand cradles the curve of her skull and his lips rest at her temple, his body warm and close under hers. "It's okay, Kate. I know, it's a lot to take in. You're safe now, I'm here."

For the first time since she woke up in the hospital, Kate is absolutely certain that the life she finds herself in now is so much better than the one she left behind.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry this is so so long and is basically a rehashing of things we already know, but I felt like it was important to show the genesis of Kate's understanding of the lengths Castle will go to for her, and to show her realising how much she must be capable of loving him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Jane Doe**

* * *

Kate jerks awake in the middle of the night, heart pounding, and for a moment she doesn't even know who she is. The room is not one she recognises, the mattress beneath her more comfortable than any she has ever owned. And then she remembers; she's in Richard Castle's bed. She married him, and it's her bed now too.

Laying back down, Kate presses a palm between he breasts, over the scar from the bullet that ripped its way through her chest. Earlier tonight, after she stopped crying, after the strange mixture of grief and release abated a little, she had sat up on the couch and managed a watery smile for Castle. He had wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumbs and kissed her cheek, before another yawn had overtaken him.

Right now, he's asleep in the guest room. She's making progress, actively trying to be open to the idea that she was once in love with this man. And really. . .she could have done a lot worse. He's handsome, kind, funny and loving. A wonderful father, and already she can see that she's very lucky to have him. That of all the people she could have woken up married to, it's him.

A noise from the baby monitor on her nightstand cuts through the swathes of darkness and she realises that this is what must have woken her initially. Her little boy, crying out for his mother upstairs. Only, she doesn't know if she can be a comfort to him. Kate sits up and swings her leg out of bed, rests her feet flat against the floor and waits to see if Marlow's father will wake and go to their son.

There's nothing, only silence in fragments interspersed with Mal's upset. Castle got no sleep in the hospital the night before and so she knows he must have been wiped out, is probably dead to the world right now. Kate stands up and grabs a robe that's lying draped over an armchair in the corner of the room. Tugging it on, she pads in socked feet all the way through the living room and up the stairs, moving as quietly as she can down the hall.

When she nudges open the door to Marlow's room, her son is sitting up in bed and the blue glow from the nightlight next to his bed makes him look almost garish, an alien. For just a moment, and then he sees her and reaches out and Kate hurries to his side and scoops him up, taking the blanket with him.

She wraps it around her son's little body, limp and heavy with sleep as it is, and she moves to sit in the rocking chair over by Mal's window. Tugging the cord on the blinds, she opens the slats so the moonlight can come streaming in and she wipes at Marlow's tears, holding him as close as she can. "Shh baby, you're okay. Mommy's here, shh."

"Mommy." Mal chokes out on a sob, burying his face against her and his tears soak through the oversized jersey sweater she's been sleeping in, her skin prickling at the wetness.

Kate strokes her fingers through his hair and lets instinct take over, tries not to think too much about it as she rocks them in the chair and kisses Marlow's forehead, his cheek, the end of his nose. "I'm here, my sweet boy. I got you. What happened? Did you have a bad dream? It's okay, Mommy's here."

"I scared." Mal mewls, rubbing his nose against her collar bone. He's heavy like this, curled up close against her chest, and she shifts her arm underneath him to get a better grip.

"You woke up and you were frightened?"

"Yes." Her son whimpers, but already he's coming down from the crying jag. She rocks him, keeps carding a hand through his hair and rubs his back with her other as his breathing starts to even out. Kate stays there for a long time just holding her baby boy, letting him feel the warmth and the closeness of her body.

It's amazing, to be able to bring him so much comfort just by being here. Just being Mommy for him is enough, and she's so glad. Mal asks so little of her, and so far it has been easy to slot into the role of mother. She just wishes she could offer as much comfort, as much love, to Castle too.

Kate feels the exact moment her son falls back to sleep, his body going slack in her grip. Marlow's head is pressed against her neck and he snuffles, his fingers opening into a starfish shape at her collarbone. She sits perfectly still for a long time, just holding him and marvelling in the life of this child in her arms. He's a beautiful boy, and he's happy. Both Castle and her father told her that she's a good mother for her son, that she's doing a good job, but she couldn't quite believe it until she saw Mal for herself.

Eventually, she stands up and eases Marlow back down to the mattress, drawing the sheets up around him and making sure his stuffed giraffe toy is close by in case he reaches for it in the night. Kate brushes a kiss to her son's cheek and finds his ear, murmuring for him. "I love you more than anything, my sweet boy."

When she stands and turns around to head for the door, a patch of darkness detaches and comes towards her and her heart leaps into her throat a moment before plummeting, pounding hard against her ribs. Kate closes her eyes and sucks in a startled breath, opening them again to see Castle watching her intently. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. He alright?"

"Yeah. Just a bad dream." Kate murmurs, turning to look at their son again. Marlow has rolled onto his stomach, the giraffe clutched in his grip and his mouth open as he drools onto his pillow.

When she glances over at her husband again, he's smiling tenderly at their son and he comes to stand at her side, their shoulders almost brushing. "He has those, yeah. Usually only needs Mommy or Jolly Tall to make him feel better though."

"Jolly Tall?" Kate lifts an eyebrow, watching their son as his chest rises and falls, heavy with sleep. His cheeks are pink, his hair a little damp and matted with sleep-sweat, but she doesn't think she's ever seen anything so beautiful.

"Yes. Jolly Tall is the giraffe's name. Did you ever see _Old Bear Stories_ when they used to be on television? Alexis loved them; she had all the books too. And then she read them to Marlow, and Jolly Tall got his moniker."

Kate huffs a laugh, and then she swallows her pride and tips her head to the side until her cheek meets his bicep. His arm wraps around her shoulders immediately, an automatic reaction, and he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. And it's. . .nice. Kate has never really been a snuggler, hasn't tended to seek comfort in the closeness of someone else's body.

But Castle's fingers are smoothing up and down her arm and he's warm and he smells great and they _made a person_, together. She thinks maybe it could be okay to need him, to want him close by. "He's amazing, Rick."

"He is." Her husband agrees, squeezing her a little and drawing her in closer against him. "I'm sorry I didn't wake up for him. There's no monitor in the guest room, and the walls are pretty soundproof up here."

Shrugging, Kate glances up at him, and then she does a very brave thing. She stretches up on tiptoe and she brushes a kiss to Castle's cheek. Not anywhere close to his mouth, more the kind of kiss Aunt Theresa gives her every time Kate sees her father's sister, but it's a step in the right direction. "He's my son too, Castle. I don't mind. It was nice to be able to comfort him."

"You're comforting me, too." He blurts out, seeming to surprise even himself. Marlow stirs a little and the two of them freeze, watching until he settles again. He does, body going slack, but Castle untangles himself from around her shoulders and snags her hand instead, leads her out of the room with him.

They head for the guest room, the sheets all crumpled up where Castle has slept in them, and they sit together on the end of the bed. The loft is quiet, but outside the open window the city swells and spills over with life, even in spite of the late hour.

Castle scrubs a hand over his jaw and Kate's mouth goes dry at the sight of his stubble, a baser part of her imagining what it would feel like if he dragged his lips over her skin. "When we first met, Kate, you had a wall inside. And I was. . .a jackass. You didn't like me very much, and I don't blame you. So I guess, when you woke up and you didn't know me, I thought you would be like you were then. But you're not. You're _here_."

"Well, Castle, if you're a different guy than you were then I guess it makes sense that I'd react to you differently." She shrugs, chewing on her lip. Honestly, she can't really imagine not liking this man. He's been so wonderful to her, even when she's been cold and angry and she's yelled at him.

He smiles, thumb stroking over the back of the hand he's still holding. "I think I was halfway in love with you inside of five minutes." He laughs, shaking his head at himself. "But I made things difficult for you. Not always on purpose, but I did. It took a while to earn your trust."

"I trust you now, Castle." She says, surprised to find how much she means it. Yes, she doesn't really know him. But they have a son together and she married him and she let him help with her mother's case, and all of those things stack up as evidence to prove that this man, her husband, is someone she can rely on.

That seems to have startled him and he stares at her, face steadily unravelling into shock as she watches. He swallows a couple times and then he manages to get himself together, clutching her fingers tight in his own. "You do?"

"I married you, didn't I?" She huffs, arching an eyebrow at him. "I wouldn't have done that if you weren't someone I could trust." A yawn barrels its way into her and Kate presses a hand over her mouth to hide it from him. "Sorry."

"It's late. We should go back to bed." Castle says through his own yawn, apparently having caught it from her. He smiles at her, catching her around the wrist before she can stand up to hold her in place as he leans in and brushes his lips to her cheek.

So very much closer to the corner of her mouth than she dared earlier and it makes her blood rush, means she has to sit for a beat longer than she might have done if her legs hadn't just turned to water beneath her. And then she gets to her feet as gracefully as she can manage and squeezes his shoulder on the way past, heading downstairs and back to bed.

* * *

Castle wakes with a sharp jerk and a gasp of his breath, sits up against the headboard to see the door of the guest room nudging slowly open and his son slinking inside and tottering his way up to the bed. He snags his phone and checks the time, sees it's just past seven.

At the side of the bed, Marlow stretches his hands up and Rick swings his son up onto the mattress and tugs the sheets up around them both, draping his arm heavy over Mal's back. Neither of them is really awake yet, and so Castle is content to laze just a little longer. His phone flashes with a message alert and he unlocks it, pulls up the text and sees that it's from his wife.

_I'm at the precinct. Didn't want to wake either of you to say goodbye._

His stomach churns and Rick draws their son closer against him until Marlow's breath curls out against his neck. Since their boy was born, Castle has gotten used to his wife being around in the mornings. If there's an active case, an early warrant to serve, then sometimes she'll be gone. But she doesn't drag herself out of bed to be at the precinct for six in the morning anymore. Instead, she's the one to get up for their son and either bring him back to bed to curl up with both Mommy and Daddy or cook breakfast with Mal's help and wake Rick when it's ready.

He supposes it makes sense. This is 2008 Kate, and it's default for her to drag herself out of bed at five and stumble into the shower, be ready to go before the sun manages to struggle over the horizon. At least, he thinks inanely, she remembered that they're married and that she needs to text him. He can't imagine what he would have done if he'd woken up and found her gone.

Yesterday afternoon, when Kate was asleep, Castle had called the precinct to tell Captain Gates what has happened. Tell her that her best detective is missing ten years of her life. The captain had asked that Beckett come to the precinct at some point today to discuss where they go from here, what kind of revaluation Kate might need to undergo. Rick had dutifully passed along the message, and Kate had said she was fine, at least physically, that she wanted to go back to work.

It's a more familiar environment, he supposes, one that she actually remembers. Even so, he wasn't expecting her to head out quite so early. It's been two nights, only two, but his whole body aches with a desperate yearning to have her close. To sleep at her side where she's warm and snuggly and she orients towards him, works to keep him close.

"Daddy." Marlow says insistently, struggling to escape from underneath the arm that Castle still has laying over the boy's body to pin him to the mattress. Usually he likes it, giggles with delight to find himself trapped, but now he's frowning and shoving at Rick's forearm with both palms. "I gotta go potty."

"Oh, sorry, my man." Castle says, swinging his son out of bed and following close behind, watching as his son barrels down the hallway towards the bathroom. They both use it (Mal hops from foot to foot and giggles hysterically while he waits for his father) and then Rick swings his little boy up into a piggy back and carries him down to the kitchen.

They're just finishing up breakfast when the door to the loft swings wide open and reveals his mother standing in the threshold with bags all around her ankles. She throws her hands up and Castle releases Marlow from the high seat and sets his son to the floor, lets him go charging for his grandmother.

"Hello there, my darling. I've missed you terribly." His mother says, lifting Mal right up into the air a moment before she draws him in close. She's seventy five years old, but she has aged with grace and with resilience. Every time he gets maudlin, thinks about what life might be like without her, Kate huffs at him and insists that there's plenty of life left in Martha yet.

Rick comes to join his mother and son at the entryway, shifting her luggage inside of the loft so he can close the door behind her. Cupping her elbows, he kisses her cheek and receives a brushing of her lips right back. "Mother, I wasn't expecting you home so soon. There are another three weeks left of the tour, I thought?"

"That's right, darling." His mother says warmly, Marlow at her hip now. "But I withdrew from the remainder of the production. My understudy is more than capable, and I'm needed here."

He wants to tell her she isn't, that he's handling it, but he really doesn't know that he is. Marlow is oblivious, both of his parents somehow managing to keep afloat for him, but Rick is floundering. Grieving his wife, really, even though she's right here in front of him.

He can't help but feel as if he's lost her already. That she's just biding her time, and one day she'll disappear on him and take their son with her and he'll lose the two most precious things in his life. Just the thought drags at him, makes him want to crumple to the floor, but Mal is reaching out and so he has to take his son instead.

His mother notices, of course, but she says nothing. Not until a while later, Mal playing upstairs in his room and the two of them free to talk. "Darling. You were very vague on the phone."

Rick drops his head to the back of the couch and presses his palms against his eyes, doing his best not to groan or snap or cry. None of this is his mother's fault, or Kate's, or anyone's except the jackass that rammed into his wife's car. It's Neanderthal of him, he knows, but he can't help feeling like he's the one they all rely on, the three women he loves the most. And he can't lose it in front of any of them.

"I said that Kate had been in an accident."

"You also said she wasn't hurt." His mother frowns, grabbing for his hand and squeezing tight. Hers are fragile, thin with age, and it makes his throat close up to feel the delicacy of his mother's grip. "Richard."

"She hit her head. And. . .she thinks it's 2008." He says it so quietly, but he knows that she's heard because she goes completely still and the very air seems to vibrate around the shock of her gasp for a long, drawn out moment. "She doesn't remember anything of our relationship."

His mother – for perhaps the first time in her life – is utterly speechless. She gathers him in for a hug and he goes willingly, his head against her chest and his eyes closed. He feels brittle and vulnerable, not at all how he imagines Marlow must feel when he's cradled against Kate.

But then, his son is two. Not rapidly approaching fifty. "Mom, I don't know what to do. What if she doesn't ever remember?"

"Don't you dare give up on that woman, Richard, because in all the years you have been together she has never given up on you." His mother says, almost stern, but he's so grateful. He needs it, needs someone to tell him to stop moping and get on with it, that everything will turn out alright.

That person is usually his wife. "She's trying so hard, I can see that she is. But she's more the woman I first met than the woman I married. And I'm afraid-" He cuts himself off, can't even manage to voice his worst fears.

"That this time around, she might not fall in love with you." His mother says slowly, and he bows his head under the blow of the words. "Darling, do you know how ridiculous that is? Kate adores you. And even if she doesn't get her memories back, you're still the man she loves."

"She's doing so good with Marlow." He admits, lifting his chin to meet his mother's unwavering gaze.

She smiles at him, squeezing his hand in one of hers and waving the other as if to say _see_. "Richard, I know Katherine. You two are right for each other. I'm sure she'll see that. In the meantime, just keep being there for her."

"That's all I want. I just don't know if she'll let me." He's trying not to be morose, really he is. It's just so damn hard. All he wants to do, all he's wanted for nine years, is to be allowed to love her. And for six of those years he has done, and it has been glorious.

He adores Katherine Beckett, feels the truth of it deep in his soul, and all he needs is for her to be close by and to take care of her. "Well, Richard darling, she came home with you didn't she? She's trying, at least."

"Yeah. She is. I guess I just wish that she didn't have to. You've seen her, how naturally she fell into life with me. My wife is very good at being in love, and this Kate isn't that woman." Admitting it tastes sour in his mouth, but it's true. He loves her, of course he does, but he feels like he has to work at it where he didn't before. "I don't know what to do."

"You do what you've always done." His mother says, as if it's obvious. "You stay by her side, and you show her every day that you love her. In the small ways, and the big ones."

Right. He is trying, really he is. It's just that it's an automatic reaction now, to kiss her whenever she's near, to tell her he loves her every time he wants to, to drag her body against his and palm her ass. He doesn't trust himself to be able to hold back around her. "I miss her. And I feel like an idiot for it, because she's right here, but I do."

"Darling, that's completely understandable. Is she going to visit her therapist again?" His mother asks, her hands clasped now and pressed between her knees.

He shrugs, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the past few days smack into him. "I don't know. I guess I should talk to her about that. Let her know the option's there."

"Yes. And, Richard? I think you should consider seeing someone yourself. This is a lot to process."

Immediately, he recoils at that idea, but his mother knows him well. She doesn't try to push the issue, just gives him space to figure it out. To see that actually, she's right. "I suppose that's probably a good idea. Maybe I can figure out how to be better for her."

"Richard." His mother says sharply, frowning at him. "You are so good for her. Please don't tear yourself apart trying so hard and getting nothing back from her. I watched that happen to you once and I don't want to see it again. Katherine is a grown woman, a wife and mother. And yes she doesn't remember it, but she still has those responsibilities."

He nods, says nothing. Because he isn't about to tell his mother that he's afraid those responsibilities are the thing that is going to make the woman he loves run from him.

* * *

**A/N:** I don't usually leave author's notes but I have a few things I need to say so it's happening on this chapter I do apologise. Firstly - THANK YOU! The reception for this fic has been just incredible and I'm so grateful for all of the tweets and the reviews and all of your kind words. That being said, some of you have questioned things or been confused and have said so in reviews, but because you've been guests I haven't been able to clarify! If you have a question and you want to be anonymous, please come and leave me an ask on tumblr so I can actually respond. I'd be very grateful.

Secondly, my exams start a week today and finish June 12th, and it's pretty unlikely that there will be an update until after they are over. I have to focus on studying for the time being, rather than writing. But I'll be back and things will be back to normal after June 12th, if you guys can be patient with me until then.

Lastly - today is my three year anniversary of writing fanfiction! I've learned (and improved) so much in that time, and it's the enjoyment that all of you get from my writing that makes me want to keep doing it, so thank you!


	8. Chapter 8

**Jane Doe**

* * *

When the elevator doors slide open on the precinct Kate remains for a moment inside the car as a shiver rattles its way up her spine, arrested by the incongruity of the bullpen. This is her domain, her home, and since she woke up and found that she's ten years older than her brain was insisting she is, she's been desperate to come to work. To be, finally, someplace she recognises.

On the surface, it seems much the same. But there are more framed photographs littering her desk, ornaments she's never seen before. And people - uniforms and detectives alike - nodding at her or offering a friendly smile she returns automatically, before the blip of vacant nonrecognition even hits her.

Striding out of the elevator car, she heads for the Captain's office with her shield clipped to her hip, her gun a weight more comfortable and familiar to her than her own son in her arms. Rapping her knuckles against the wood, Kate steps inside at the signal from the woman behind the desk and pushes her hands deep inside of her pockets, tries not to feel like a little girl about to be scolded.

"Detective Beckett. How are you feeling?" The woman - Captain Gates, so Castle says - asks, her voice far gentler than Kate had anticipated.

Shrugging her shoulders inside of the sharply cut blazer she picked from the closet this morning, Kate manages a wry grin. "I'm okay, thank you ma'am. Ready to get back to work."

For that, she earns herself an eye roll that makes her jump a little, the silly need to take a step backward bubbling up inside her. Gates is shaking her head now, gesturing for Kate to sit, and she folds herself into the chair opposite her captain's desk with as much grace as she can muster. It's a jarring sensation, wading through a foreign world, and Kate keeps finding herself constantly off balance.

"I forgot that you wouldn't know. Please, Detective, call me Sir or Captain. Not ma'am."

"Of course, Sir." Kate says, feeling a wry grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She lets it free, just a little, and gets a smile back from her boss. "How much requalification am I going to need to do?"

Gates laces her fingers together and rests them against her desk, lifting an eyebrow and opening the file in front of her. "I pulled some of your records from ten years ago, to see where you're at mentally right now. Seems to me that you're just fine to be out in the field. I would like you to requalify at the range, but otherwise, I'm happy for you to return to work. Detective Esposito will take the lead on the first few cases, just while you find your footing again."

"Of course." Kate says again, so grateful for the opportunity to be _good_ at something. She's a terrible wife, a depressingly average mother, but back in 2008 she was a damn good cop and she's confident the same is still true.

Gates offers Kate a nod of dismissal and she stands, leaves her captain's office and heads for her desk. The computer is fancier than the one she was expecting, seems quite complex, but it isn't that which has her forehead creasing. Back in 2008, she didn't have any photographs on her desk. There weren't any that she would want to have at work, to see every day.

Now, there are a cluster of frames all crowding together, garnering for her attention. In one, Kate stands at Castle's side with the salted sweep of the ocean behind them, a silvery line of cresting waves separating it from the hard blue edge of sky. Her dress is all lace and chiffon, spilling out from her hips to drape gently around her.

It's stunning. Her wedding dress. Delicate and beautiful, and even in a photograph Kate can see that she must have felt like a princess in it. She and Castle are gazing at each other, soft smiles melting both of their faces, and it doesn't seem staged. Doesn't seem like a moment for the photograph, but rather a moment for them that the photographer just happens to have captured.

There are more pictures, too. One of the family all crowded into a booth, Kate sandwiched between her father and her husband, her stomach swollen with their child. It makes her breath catch to see it, herself glowing and radiant and all those things she hasn't even been able to admit to wanting. Opposite the three of them in the booth is Castle's daughter and an older, redheaded woman she assumes to be his mother.

Kate presses a hand to her mouth to hide the silly grin from her colleagues, her insides threatening to bubble over with her delight. She has a whole family in this life, so many people to care about. It's not just her son, not just Castle, it's all of them together.

The final picture frame shows Alexis curled up in an armchair, her hair longer than it was when Kate met her yesterday and wound into a braid that drapes over her shoulder. In her arms, Marlow is cradled, fast asleep. His little mouth is open, his cheek mashed against Alexis' chest and a tiny hand fisted in the collar of her shirt.

Her son has a sister. Kate wonders if they're close, she and Alexis. Maybe that's something to ask Castle about, a safe topic of discussion. She's so afraid of hurting him, will do anything to avoid it. Even if that means swallowing the harder questions until she can pose them to someone else. Lanie, maybe, or even the boys.

It takes her an embarrassing amount of time, far longer than it should have, but eventually Kate manages to figure out how to turn on her computer. It swells to life, another picture filling the screen. This one is of feet in the sand; her own she recognises on the right. On the left are larger ones she assumes to be Castle's, and in the middle the chubby little toes of their son.

She smiles to see it, but her heart swells with melancholia all the same. How desperately she wishes she could have held on to some of these memories. It's so very odd, to look at the photographs and the evidence and feel a strange mixture of longing and jealousy. She wants so badly to be the woman in the photographs, to have that same joy that makes her grin so wide.

Kate moves the mouse around the computer screen, opens up a couple of documents and finds that even the programs running them are utterly foreign to her. Resigning herself to the fact that she's going to need someone to explain this to her, she stands up from her desk and heads for the break room.

This morning, she snuck out of the loft early. Entirely on purpose. After last night, the tenderness forged between herself and Castle, she couldn't quite stomach the thought of seeing him and having to further disappoint him. She just. . .isn't there yet. Isn't ready to handle the way he looks at her.

In the break room, she finds a new coffee machine and sinks down to the couch with her head in her hands, breathing heavily to try and get a handle on her emotions. It seems like every tiny little aspect of her life has evolved in the gaping hole of her memory; she can't even make herself a cup of coffee anymore.

The sound of the door nudging slowly open brings her out of her wallowing and she looks up, her heart singing in relief when she sees Ryan come inside and sit down beside her. "Beckett, hey. How are you doing?"

"Still trying to figure out how to work everything." She huffs a sardonic laugh, musters the courage to meet his eyes. Kate steels herself for pity but finds none there, only a gentle openness she should have known to expect from Kevin. "Who would have thought technology would advance so much in ten years."

"Right?" Ryan grins, nudging his elbow into her side and standing up from the couch. "I guess it must be pretty daunting, huh? Well, the coffee machine isn't too complicated. And you actually have your husband to blame for this one."

That makes her smile, shaking her head. From what she knows of Castle, it doesn't surprise her at all that he would buy a coffee machine for her workplace. "Of course I do. Let me guess, our coffee wasn't good enough for him?"

"Something about monkey pee and battery acid. Actually, you refused to use it at first. We thought you were being stubborn, and then we figured out that it gave you an excuse to keep Castle around, have him make your coffee for you every day."

Ryan is smirking at her now, leaning back against the counter with folded arms and lifting his eyebrows. And it's horrifying, but Kate finds herself blushing hard, has to half-turn her face away from her colleague. Her brain reels as she tries desperately to think of something to say, some way to defend herself, but thankfully Kevin steps in to fill the silence.

"After the little man was born, Castle taught you how to use it so you wouldn't have to go without your coffee while he was at home playing Mr Mom."

Kate nods, rolling her eyes at herself a little. It's ridiculous, how flustered she's gotten just because of this gentle teasing from her quasi-brother. And honestly, it's not like it's a secret that she cares about Castle, or at least has cared about him in the past. She married the man, for goodness sake.

It takes her a few tries, and Ryan's ever-resilient patience begins to stretch a little thin, but eventually she figures it out and manages to make herself a latte. Somehow just this, the warmth of the ceramic seeping into her palms when she wraps them around it, makes her feel like everything's going to be alright.

Yes, she doesn't remember so many things. But she can learn, and she refuses to give up. She'll figure this out. Her job, her son, and how to be what Castle needs from her. How to stop hurting him.

* * *

It takes an enormous effort on Rick's part not to text her throughout the day. Usually, they keep a conversation going the entire time they're separated. Rick sends pictures of their son or things he's found on the internet that he hopes will make her crack a smile, and in return she feeds him tidbits from her cases, lets him build theory with her via message.

Not today, though. Today, every time he finds himself reaching into his pocket for his cell phone he stops and he does something else instead, distracts himself with his son or his mother. He hasn't been entirely in the dark though; Ryan has kept him in the loop, assured him that Kate is doing just fine.

When she comes through the door at six thirty, his mother is the first to meet her. Rick is busy upstairs, getting Marlow dried off and into his pyjamas after bath time, and so the first he knows of his wife's return is his mother's voice ringing out in welcome.

He hurries through the remaining buttons on Marlow's footsie pyjamas and scoops his son up, thunders down the stairs with Mal giggling and shrieking against his neck to rescue Kate from Hurricane Martha.

If anyone asks later, he'll blame the dual distractions of his mother and his son, or maybe the weak-kneed relief that Kate actually came home to him. Not that either of those is, really, a viable excuse as to why when he reaches his wife at the door and hands over the squirmy boy whose hands are already reaching out for his mama, Rick chases the exchange of their son with the brush of his mouth against hers.

Underneath the press of his lips, Kate goes completely still for just a moment, and then Rick is hurrying to pull away and Kate is arranging Marlow to rest more comfortably against her hip and Rick's mother is watching them with undisguised interest, an eyebrow arcing up towards her hairline.

Rick touches a hand to his mother's elbow to draw her away from the door and give Kate room to come further inside the loft. They gravitate towards the kitchen and Castle holds up a bottle of wine, gets a nod of affirmation from his mother and a shrug of acquiescence from his wife. He pours three glasses, sips at his own and tries not to be too obvious in his admiration for Kate as she juggles Marlow and her wine.

They fill the room with idle chatter, much of it directed at Mal, but he starts to grow sleepy fairly fast. His head drops to Kate's shoulder and his eyes flutter closed, and Kate sets her glass down to better wrap her arms around their little boy.

Surprisingly enough, it's his mother that peels Marlow out of Kate's grip and holds him close, leaning in to let the sleepy boy's mother kiss his cheek before she comes around the counter and offers Mal up for Rick to kiss as well.

"I'll tuck him in, give you two a moment alone." His mother says, and her tact - or lack thereof - makes both Rick and Kate smile, sharing a look behind her back as she heads for the staircase.

Once she's out of earshot, Rick comes around to sit next to his wife, squeezing her shoulder on his way past. She looks tired, but far less uncomfortable than she did this time yesterday. It would seem that being at the precinct has done her some good. "How was your day?"

"Good!" She offers him a soft smile, but the one he gives in return must be a little too much because she dips her head, glancing away from him. "Captain Gates said I can come back to work. Espo's gonna take point on the first couple of cases while I find my footing again. But Castle, it was so good to feel useful." Her whole face lights up and she beams, meeting his eyes again. "I knew what I was doing, there."

He's happy for her, really he is, but it does sting. That she's still so unsure of herself, here in the life they built together. "You know you're useful here too, right? Marlow and I, we both need you. But that doesn't mean that you. . .have to stay."

Immediately, he hates himself for saying it. And not because it might plant the seed of that idea somewhere dark and warm in her brain where she can nurture it. No. Because she looks utterly wrecked by his words, her whole face slackening into a mixture of shock and anguish.

She stares at her feet and he finds himself grabbing for her hand, lifting it to his mouth and dusting his mouth to her knuckles. "Please don't go. But don't stay out of a sense of duty or something either, Kate. Stay because you want to."

"Castle." She breathes, freeing her hand from his crushing grip. His heart sinks, but then she's lacing their fingers together and dropping their joined hands to rest at her thigh. "I'm not going anywhere. And I"m not here because I have to be. I'm here because I want to be. This is my life."

She shrugs, like she hasn't just assuaged all of the fears he's had since she got hurt. Like it's nothing, even though more than anything he wants to draw her against him and kiss her slow and deep and good until her body melts in his arms. "Thank you, Kate."

"Please don't thank me, Rick." She murmurs, her eyes closing. "I know I"m not anywhere close to being the woman you love."

"You will always be the woman I love, Kate." He says quietly, doing his utmost not to frighten her with the depth of his adoration for her. Even when she'd had years of them as friends and colleagues to ease her way into it, he held back. Didn't tell her he loves her again until she said it first. So yes, he does know how, but he's out of practice in the art of not overwhelming Kate Beckett.

When he meets her eyes they're glassy and she chews at her lower lip, her pulse jumping visibly in her throat. "I wish this wasn't happening, Castle."

A tear breaks free and skids down the slope of her cheek and he stands up from the barstool, wraps both of his arms around her and buries his face in her hair. "Shh, Kate. Don't cry. It's gonna be okay."

He really wishes he could figure out how to make this easier for her. It seems like all she's done since she woke up in the hospital is hurt, and cry, and beat herself up because she can't fill the shoes found in a closet ten years ahead of where her brain is.

It doesn't matter. They'll figure it out, find a way to make their family work. Right now, she's soft and warm in his arms, hers are looped around his waist and he loves her. There's not much else he needs.

Eventually, he feels her relax a little and he steps back, swipes his thumbs over her cheeks and brushes a soft kiss to her forehead. They watch each other for a moment, but neither acknowledges either the contact or her lack of resistance and then the fragile peace swells and grows into something awkward and Rick clears his throat.

"What would you like for dinner?"

* * *

Kate can't sleep.

It's a bizarre feeling, like a muscle memory, but she just can't get comfortable in the too big, too empty bed. She keeps finding herself trying to orient around a mass that isn't there, and she's _cold_. Cold in a way another blanket just won't fix.

Her skin is used to being flush against his, drawing the heat of Castle's body, and without him she just feels off. Like something isn't quite right. Sighing quietly - and embarrassed to do so, as if the shadows are watching - Kate sits up and pushes the sheets down her body and off, curling her toes in the mattress.

There's no way she's going to get any sleep here alone. Her brain is desperate for it, but her body is stubbornly refusing, and she is just so very tired. Slipping out of bed, Kate pads through the living room and up the stairs, hesitating a moment outside the guest bedroom before she nudges the door open and slips inside.

The blinds aren't closed all the way and moonlight comes tumbling in, eager to drape its silvery light over the planes of Castle's back, cap the ridge of his spine with snow. The sheets drape over his hips, but one of his legs is free too and she can see a whole lot of his bare skin.

It makes her heart pound, skipping eager in her chest. He's a big man, a broad man, and Kate isn't ashamed to admit that being in his arms in the kitchen earlier tonight is the most whole she's felt since she woke up from the accident.

Kate comes all the way to his side and kneels down, is just about to touch her fingers to his shoulder when his eyes peel open and his mouth tilts up at the corner. "Hi there."

"You're awake." She murmurs, carding her fingers through his hair before she even knows he's doing it. The velvet kiss of nighttime steals years from him and he looks so young, so beautiful. So much like their son. She can't help wanting to mother him.

He smiles, a little bit self-deprecating, and rolls over to sit up. Kate rises too and sits sideways on the bed at his hip, doing her utmost to ignore the broad, bare stretch of his chest. Castle reaches out and tugs the strap of her shirt up where it had slipped down on her shoulder.

"I couldn't sleep. I'm. . .sort of used to having you stealing all the covers and cutting off the circulation in my arm."

She flushes, hopes he won't see the flood of colour at her cheeks in the darkness. "I couldn't either. It's weird. I keep looking for you, even though I can't remember ever sleeping with you."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Kate. You need to sleep."

"Yeah, I do." She hesitates a moment, dipping her head, and then she lifts her chin and tucks her hair behind her ears and holds his gaze, lets him see how fiercely she means it. "So. . .come to bed?"

He stares at her for a moment, and then his face stretches and grows into something that seems fluid and effervescent, his delight just spilling out to soak them both. "You're sure?"

"We both need to sleep. And I trust you not to push me to do anything I'm not ready for." She shrugs, and then she stands up and heads for the door before her gratitude can do something silly like make her kiss him.

He's an attractive man, a good man, and she wouldn't exactly be opposed to sleeping with him in a less literal sense. Only, he loves her so deeply, and it wouldn't be right for her to take advantage of that. So no.

He's her husband, but she won't let him make love to her. Not unless a day comes when she can love him back.

All the way back downstairs Castle's body is close behind hers, warmth rolling off of him in waves and it makes her shiver in pleasure. When they eventually slip back between the sheets Castle ends up behind her, curled around her body with an arm draped heavy over her waist.

Right before Kate slides underneath the surface of sleep, so serene and calm as it waits for her to dive right in, Castle dusts a kiss to the nape of her neck that makes her whole body come alight, crackling with awareness. And then she feels him smiling into her skin, and his palm - very slowly - splays at her stomach.

He drags her body a little closer, the silk sheets making her come into him with almost no resistance. And then he's settled and comfortable and she feels unconsciousness take hold of him, scant moments before slumber closes over top of her own head.


	9. Chapter 9

**Jane Doe**

* * *

When Castle wakes up, he's astonished to find that Kate is still in bed with him. She's awake, he can tell immediately, but she hasn't moved away or left altogether and it makes his silly, hopeful heart come alive and struggle for his attention. Sometime in the night they've shifted, so now his wife faces him, cheek pressed to his shoulder.

"Sleep okay?" He murmurs to her, his arm sliding a little tighter around her waist. It's numb right now, and he knows the moment she gets up and the blood rushes back to his limb he'll be crippled with the discomfort, but he doesn't even care.

Kate is snuggling him. He'd chop his arm clean off if it only meant she'd stay. "Yeah, great. You?"

"Just fine." He smiles, risking the glance of his lips against her forehead. It's an awkward angle, and a sharp line of pain wriggles its way up his neck and across into his jaw, makes him hiss in discomfort.

It seems to be the thing that reminds Kate of where they are, who they are, and she sits up, draws her knees up to her chest. "Mal isn't awake yet?"

"Doesn't sound like it. He's a good sleeper." Rick shrugs, sitting up as well. If this was their old life, the both of them awake and their son still sleeping, Kate would slide her knee slowly over his thighs and sink down, rock her hips until he begged for her. Not this time.

On the nightstand, Rick's phone vibrates and he reaches for it, unlocks the screen to read the alert. He frowns down at the screen, so absorbed that the touch of Kate's fingers at his shoulder makes him jump. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, fine. Just. . .the Ryans and Lanie and Sito are supposed to be coming over for dinner tonight. It's our turn to host." He tries to keep his voice flat and unaffected, doesn't want Kate to feel like this is something they have to do.

He understands, and their friends will too, if she's not comfortable with the idea. "Is this something that happens a lot?"

"Because of the kids, we can't go for a drink after we solve a case now. So we do this instead, get together for dinner once a month and take it in turns to host." He smiles, the memories of the loft spilling over with their loved ones flooding him with happiness.

Kate is smiling too, a little less vibrant than his own but still there, still good. "The boys have kids too?"

"Ryan does. His wife's name is Jenny and she's probably the sweetest person in the entire world. They've got two little girls; Sarah Grace is four and Lucy Katherine is eighteen months." Rick scrolls through the camera roll on his phone, finds a picture of Marlow sandwiched between his two beautiful, blonde cousins, the three of them squished into one of the armchairs in the Ryans' living room.

He hands the phone over to his wife, lets her have a moment to look at her nieces. "They're gorgeous. And. . .her middle name is Katherine?"

She glances up at him with that strange mixture of surprise and delight that she had in the hospital when Ryan told her that he would be honoured if Kate would allow him to name his brand new daughter after the tiny girl's amazing aunt. Back then, she had choked back her tears and accepted the squirming bundle into her arms, only six months on from having done this with their own son.

"Yes. When Sarah Grace was born, Ryan had said that if she was a boy she should be called Javier, and I think they felt bad about that. Plus, you're probably the best namesake a little girl could hope for."

Kate shifts, crossing her legs underneath herself and holding Castle's phone in both hands. Still staring at the three little ones, the expansion of the family she and her boys at the precinct have forged for themselves. "Wow. I'm so honoured."

"They both adore you, Auntie Kate." Rick grins, nudging his elbow gently into Kate's side. He's delighted to find her flushing, not even trying to hide it from him. "Espo and Lanie don't have any kids, and they're not married. But they've been together on and off for seven years, and very much on for the last four of those."

Picking at the frayed edge of her pyjama shorts, Kate's whole body seems to unwind into something soft and lovely, something a whole lot closer to his wife than he's seen from her the last few days. When he first met Detective Beckett she had a steel coating, would only dare to peek out at him from behind it every once in a while.

And then he fell in love with her, and she with him, and now Kate's tenderness and her humour and the way she so loves life has him falling harder for her more and more every day.

"We're all settled down, huh? That's really weird." She shakes her head at herself, twists her wedding band around her finger.

Rick gives her a moment to process everything, watches the furrow and smooth of the skin at her forehead. It's one thing that she's missing ten years of her own life, but she's also missing everyone else's, and he imagines that must be pretty overwhelming.

"It's so good, Kate. We're surrounded by people who love us. But if you want me to cancel tonight, I'm sure everyone will understand."

It's probably a little ridiculous, how proud he is that Kate takes a moment to actually think about her answer. That she's considering all of her options before she commits. "No, don't cancel. I think it will be good to see everyone. To try and have that normalcy."

"Okay." He beams, wrapping his fingers around her knee and squeezing gently. It's not at all the contact he wants to make. Really, he burns to lay her down underneath him and kiss her until her toes curl, but that's-

He's not holding out hope that they'll regain that intimacy anytime soon. Over the baby monitor, the sounds of their son waking up ring out and Rick makes to slip out from between the sheets, freezes in place when Kate's fingers circle his wrist.

"I'll get him. Say hello before I have to get ready and go to work."

He nods, follows her out of bed and through the living room so he can make a start on breakfast. And then, before they part ways so she can head for the staircase, Kate stretches up onto tiptoe and brushes a kiss to his cheek.

It leaves him standing there, face split apart around a grin and his eyes glassed over like a lunatic. For far longer than he will ever admit to. Ever.

* * *

"Daddy!" Marlow shrieks, and it's all the warning Rick gets before the hurricane of his son lands heavy in his lap. He grunts, plays up his surprise to make Mal laugh and is rewarded with a shower of giggles and a splatter of sloppy kisses thrown over his face. "Today my cousins come?"

"That's right, my man. The girls will be here tonight, with your aunts and uncles." Kate had brought it up with their son at breakfast, asked him if he was excited to see the Ryan girls later today and ever since then Marlow has been a whirlwind of delight and, yes, impatience.

Mal throws himself backwards onto the couch cushions and flings an arm over his eyes, such a grown up gesture for so tiny a person. "Daddy, is it _so many_ hours?"

"It is-" Rick glances at his watch "Four hours until Mommy is home, and one more after that until the rest of our family gets here."

This morning, Kate promised to be home by six no matter what. In fact, the captain knows about their longstanding dinner arrangement with the boys and their families and so Gates is always lenient for this one day a month. Castle is pretty sure that the captain has come close to forcibly removing Kate from the precinct a couple times.

"Daddy, I can help you chop?" Mal asks, sitting up again and pushing his hair back out of his eyes. Really, he needs to go get it cut again, but Kate adores their son's cherubic curls, finds the thought of cutting them unbearable. Every time Rick has mentioned it she's sighed and looked so desolate that he's let it drop immediately.

In answer to his son's question, Rick scoops up his little boy and carries him over to the kitchen. Upside down, of course, and the blood rushes into Marlow's head and makes his cheeks pink, makes him sway a little when Rick sets him down to sit on the counter top.

When they first started doing these family dinners, way back when Kate was pregnant with their son, Rick had suggested they have it catered. And really, he should have known, but his wife was aghast at that idea, flat out refused it.

He'd been hurt by that, her not even bothering to consider his perspective, and they had fought. Kate had said she would be ashamed to present their family with food cooked by somebody else, that she wished just once he could drop his celebrity status and be a normal person. It had stung, but they'd moved past it and the two of them cooked together, an offering of meat sauce to taste turning into an impromptu round on top of the counter.

So, they cook. And now Marlow helps, under his father's careful guidance. Rick fetches an apron for each of them from the hooks at the inside of the pantry door. Each hook has a name painted above it in Kate's lovely cursive; _Mommy_ and _Daddy_ and _Gram_ and then, low down enough to reach, _Marlow_.

Once the two of them are all suited up in their protective gear, Rick sets about fixing a marinade for the salmon to soak in until it's time to cook it. For the kids there are pizza bases he bought from the store and a whole array of toppings so they can make their own, get involved in making dinner themselves. Mal helps to cut up peppers and tomatoes, stores them in tupperware containers in the refrigerator for later.

The window is open, the thick summer air curling lazy inside the apartment and bringing with it the sounds of a city at play, those who abandoned it as it baked to the point of cracking slowly filtering back home, flinging open windows and breathing in life as fall waits patiently for the last of the heat to swim hazy to the sky.

Somewhere out there, the woman he loves is clearing away the rotten parts of the city they so adore. And later, she's coming home to him and their son.

* * *

A knock sounds out, crisp and clear, and Kate jolts hard. As she heads for the door she wipes her hands off on her jean shorts, feels them grow clammy again immediately. It's so utterly stupid for her to be so nervous, but there it is.

She's terrified of screwing this up, of not being able to keep up with the rest of her family. Who seem to have stretched and swollen and grown in the space of the years she is missing, and her heart aches for that too. How she wishes she could remember the look on Ryan's face when he held his child for the first time, or having teased Esposito mercilessly when he and Lanie finally settled down into life together.

As she helped him put the finishing touches on dinner, Castle had done his best to fill in as many of the gaps as he could. Given her a time frame, at least. But it still feels like stepping head first into the unknown, and she has to suck in a deep breath and close her eyes a moment before she opens the door.

"Hey." She beams at Javier and Lanie, ushering them inside the loft. "Rick's just upstairs with Marlow. We had. . .an incident with the potty chair."

Esposito shudders, and it takes a concerted effort not to echo him. Yes, she loves Marlow more than her own life, but tonight has certainly opened her eyes to the less appetising aspects of motherhood.

"Javi, go see if the boys need a hand." Lanie instructs, swatting at him when he stares at her with something close to terror contorting his face into a comical mask. "You, Kate Beckett, are coming with me."

Lanie hooks an arm through Kate's and drags her over to the kitchen, reaches into the cooler for a couple of beers and hands one over to Kate. The ME takes a long gulp and sighs, sharing a grin with Beckett. "Damn, I needed that. Now, how are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." Kate starts, ploughs right through the disbelieving lift of Lanie's eyebrow. "Really, I am. I mean, it's been a shock. Obviously. And there's a lot to get used to. But Rick has made it really easy to adjust. He's been great."

"Oh, Rick huh? Usually you only call him that when he's in trouble." Lanie smirks, leaning back against the counter and taking another drag of her beer.

Kate feels herself flushing but she has no defence. And really, no inclination to stop calling him that. He's her husband, and it just feels weird to be calling him Castle all the time. Especially since she checked her driver's licence earlier and found that she's a Castle too, now. At work, everyone was still calling her Detective Beckett, but it seems that at home she's Mrs Castle.

Either her silence has gone on for too long, or she's just terrible at hiding her emotions, because Lanie squeezes her bicep and offers her a small smile. "I'm sorry, honey. I think you're coping amazingly. Honestly, if I woke up to a husband and son I didn't know I don't think I'd have been able to run fast enough."

"The worst part about not remembering is how much it hurts him. I just wish I could love him back, you know? He deserves it." Kate keeps her voice low, conscious that her husband is upstairs and it would probably gut him to hear this.

Lanie nods, regarding her for just a moment before she speaks. "You may not remember him Kate, but we all do. He is absolutely crazy about you and once upon a time, you were absolutely crazy about him. I have no doubt that you'll get back there. You two have made it through worse than this."

"Right. I've heard some things." Kate laughs, shaking her head. Yesterday at work the boys gave her the run down of some of the cases they've had in the last ten years. Some of it just seems nonsensical. Honestly, a dirty bomb? Never mind the handcuffs and the tiger.

A shriek of delight rings out from the top of the staircase and Marlow almost flops right out of Esposito's arms, Kate's heart pounding double-time until Javi manages to get a stronger grip around her son. "Tía!"

Lanie moves to meet the boys at the bottom of the stairs and takes Mal from Espo, snuggling the boy close and pressing a row of smacking kisses to his cheeks. "Hello there, _peque_. How are you?"

After a moment of watching Marlow's aunt and uncle shower him with affection, Kate is drawn away by the curl of Castle's fingers at her shoulder. They take a few steps away and Castle's fingers twitch at his side; she wonders if he wants to take her hand.

"Everything alright with him?"

"Eventually." Rick huffs, casting a horrified glance in the direction of their son's crotch before he swings back around to meet her eyes. "You okay? If it gets too much, Kate-"

"I'm fine. Really." She cuts in, doing the brave thing and taking his hand in her own. He seems so surprised and it just assures her that this is the right decision. Give him as much of herself as she can. "And if it does get too much, I'll tell you. I promise."

There's another knock at the door before Rick gets a chance to answer her and Kate follows him over to the loft's entryway, stands close at his side as he opens the front door and ushers the Ryans inside.

"Auntie Kate!" The eldest girl beams, reaching her arms up to her aunt, and Kate lifts her into an embrace, kisses her cheek.

Both of Ryan's daughters look exactly like their mother, the same nose and blush-coloured mouth and spill of blonde hair, but the gentle blue eyes that meet Kate's are all Kevin. "Hey there, beautiful girl. I love your dress."

"Mommy said I could wear it so you could see." Sarah beams with pride and glances over to Jenny, gets a smile of reassurance from her mother.

The Ryans' younger daughter tugs at the bottom of Kate's jean shorts and she cups the back of the girl's skull in her palm, crouches down so she can hug both of them at once. Ryan huffs a laugh and nudges his littlest girl so he can come all the way inside of the loft, ruffles his daughter's hair. "Lulu Kate, give your aunt some space to breathe."

"It's okay." Kate grins up at Ryan, gathering both girls against her for a last hug before she lets Sarah go. The girl charges straight for her cousin and Mal clamours to escape from Lanie's hug to get down and play, but when Kate turns back Lucy is watching her with those doe eyes, so silent, and Kate scoops the girl up before she stands.

She has _nieces_, and she's halfway in love with both of them already. "Hi, sweetheart. You just want to cuddle, huh?"

"Sorry, Kate." Jenny laughs, blushing a little as she sets down her backpack and leans in to kiss her daughter's cheek. "It's sort of a running joke. Lulu's like a little shadow to you, always wanting to be close to her namesake."

Feeling herself bubbling over with silly delight, Kate dusts a kiss to the crown of her niece's head to buy herself enough time to school her features. She can feel Castle's eyes hot on her from across the room, even as he fixes everyone a drink. "That's okay, I don't mind. She's gorgeous, they both are."

"I'm so sorry! I didn't even introduce myself, or them." Jenny says, pressing her palms against her cheeks and looking so genuinely embarrassed that Kate frees a hand from around the tiny slip of a girl in her arms to touch her fingers to Jenny's bicep instead.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. Rick filled me in on who would be here tonight. Actually, he said you're the sweetest person either of us knows. And so perfect for Kevin." She's not entirely sure what makes her share Castle's sentiment from earlier. Just that it seems like something she would like to hear, and this woman, Kevin's wife, more than deserves it.

"Thank you, Kate." Jenny says sincerely, before a smile bubbles its way across her face and she gestures towards the kitchen. "Shall we join the rabble."

* * *

The night is long but oh, so _good_.

Kate finds herself truly relaxing, comfortable in her skin for the first time since she woke up in the hospital. Eventually, she managed to encourage Lucy to let her set her down and the quiet, timid little girl scurried off to play with her older cousins.

It left the adults room to talk, and she was so grateful that no one tried to avoid the topic of Kate's memory loss. They spent the evening filling her in on some of the things she's missing, a slew of stories about Esposito's drunken behaviour at Kevin and Jenny's wedding making her laugh so hard her abdominal muscles are still aching a little even hours later.

And yes, there was some ribbing from the rest of the team about Kate's own behaviour at the Ryans' wedding. Apparently she got a couple glasses of champagne inside her and then refused to leave Castle's side for the rest of the night, totally monopolising him on the dance floor and elsewhere.

She had blushed, but Rick's fingers had folded around her knee underneath the table and they'd shared a smile. There are a lot of gaps in her knowledge, but she gets the feeling that there's a whole lot of hurt in their history that she might actually be lucky to have lost.

After everyone leaves, Mal sacked out against his father's chest, the two of them work in tandem to get their sleepy boy to bed. Outside of his room, Rick starts towards the guest bedroom and Kate stops him with a hand fisted in the bottom of his shirt.

She lets go the moment she realises what she's doing, but it's enough to make him stop and turn back, regard her with his face so open. Just waiting for her next move. "Rick. . .last night wasn't a one time thing, for me."

Yes, thank you, she hears what that sounds like. Knows the connotations all too well. But he understands, and doesn't tease, just follows her back down the stairs and to bed.

He's on autopilot. Must be. That's the only plausible explanation as to why he undresses in front of her, tossing his clothes towards the hamper and climbing into bed in just his underwear. It hits her then that the previous two nights, he's been wearing a shirt and pyjama pants only in deference to her.

That normally, he sleeps in boxers, or maybe even less than that. And maybe she does too. Kate pauses for a moment, considers going for the bathroom to change, and then thinks better of it. Not like he hasn't seen her before.

She strips down to her underwear and tugs on a tank top and a tiny pair of shorts. Unclasping her bra, she tugs the straps down her arms and pulls it out from underneath her shirt. And when she climbs in to bed, she goes straight for the middle and meets her husband there, her head settling at his shoulder.

Everywhere his bare skin touches hers, their history rewrites itself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Jane Doe**

* * *

"Kate?" Castle says over breakfast the next day, tentative and wholly focused on her all at once. She's in the middle of wiping down their son's face - he must be wearing more of the yoghurt than he actually swallowed - but she turns over her shoulder to look at him.

He's hovering at the sink, apparently finished with cleaning up their dishes from breakfast, and he just looks so delicious in striped pyjama shorts and a t-shirt that clings to his biceps, makes her heart pound. Not for the first time, she wonders how she made it three years before sleeping with him.

"Mm?"

"Can I talk to you?" Rick asks quietly, refolding the already neat dish towel and hanging it over the railing. This is the most agitated she's seen him since. . .well, ever.

Hooking both hands underneath her son's arms, Kate lifts him out of the high seat and brings him in to press a scattering of kisses to his cheeks. He wriggles in her grip, palms flat at her cheeks to hold her off and she laughs, sets him down.

Marlow scurries off towards the toy box in the living room, and Kate watches him a moment before turning back to her husband. It's her day off, he told her this morning when she woke up horrified to find her alarm hadn't sounded.

So. A whole day to figure out how the mechanics of a life with him work. Now that the dust has settled from the accident, it's clear that Kate's memories are most likely not going to come back. It has been four days, and the doctors told her in the hospital that there's a very good chance she might never reclaim those missing years. And that the longer she goes without recalling anything, the more her chances of ever getting the missing time back decreases.

Reaching back for a memory is a strange sensation, disconcerting, like when you climb a staircase and think there's one more step than there is, find yourself falling through nothing for a moment. There are things she knows, now, but it's not the same as having the memories.

"What's wrong?" She asks her husband, coming back around the counter to stand opposite him, the both of them framed in the window above the sink.

Rick scrubs both hands through his hair and sighs, shoving them deep inside of his pockets and staring at his feet as he talks. "You remember at the hospital, they suggested you see a therapist?"

"Yeah, you said I have someone already." Kate shrugs, coming around to stand at his side and lean her hips back against the counter top. Standing opposite him feels too much like a confrontation; leaning her body close against his is infinitely more appealing.

"You do. And I totally forgot to tell you about it. Remind you. God, Kate, now more than ever you must need to see him."

He sounds so utterly grief-stricken that Kate fumbles between their bodies for his hand, laces her fingers through his and squeezes. "Hey, it's okay. I would like to see him at some point, but I'm not desperate. Please don't beat yourself up over it; I forgot too."

"You'll find his number in your phone. His name is Doctor Burke. Give him a call, Kate."

"I will." She nods, a little startled to find Rick's thumb circling the back of her hand over and over as if to soothe her. It's not at all unpleasant; in fact, frissons of desire start erupting low down in her stomach. "And Rick, have you thought about maybe seeing someone yourself?"

From her peripheral vision, she sees the flicker of tension in his jawline and her breath catches in her throat, but he relaxes again almost immediately. "I spoke to my mother about that, actually. She thinks I should see someone."

"I know therapy can seem like admitting defeat. Trust me, I get that. But honestly, it really helps. And it's not a weakness."

He laughs - well, he gives her a reluctant chuckle on a huff of his breath - and she lifts an eyebrow. "Funny, you've said almost those exact words to me before. When I met my dad."

"Because they're true." Kate grins at him, nudging her shoulder into his bicep. "And speaking of your mom - where is she?"

"She doesn't live here anymore. Moved out after we got married, to give us room for our 'growing family'." He makes air quotes around the words, adding a lilt to his voice that makes him a surprisingly accurate imitation of Martha, but even as he does so he's glancing towards the living room. Towards their son.

It's been playing on Kate's mind a lot, what he said to her in the hospital. About them being ready to start trying for another baby. With the loss of her memories, Castle has lost that future too, and she hates herself for it.

"Where does she live now?" Kate asks, mostly to distract herself from the vicious, ragged edge of guilt in the pit of her stomach.

"Only a few blocks away. She's close enough that she can take care of Marlow sometimes if we need her to." Castle replies, untangling his hand from hers and taking a couple steps away to snag his cell phone from the surface of the kitchen island. "Do you think Burke would see me, too? I think it might help me to have someone who knows you."

"Castle." She says sharply, staring at him. He stares right back, confusion knitting his features and she huffs a sigh. "I have no idea if he'll see you. I don't remember ever even meeting the man."

"Right." He mutters, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. He hasn't shaved yet today and a part of her wants to ask him not to. He looks rugged, the way she was expecting him to look when she thought it was 2008. The way he used to look back then, when she was a member of his fansite and she used to DVR his talk show appearances.

"I'll call, and I'll ask him. Okay?"

"Okay." He murmurs. Kate recognises in him all the signs of discomfort, the need to have a moment alone to process things, so she heads for the living room to distract their son. It won't work forever, she probably won't be able to keep Marlow from his Daddy for more than a handful of minutes, but she has to hope that Rick will use the time wisely and figure out a way to handle it.

* * *

Ever since Kate's accident, Rick has kept himself and their son inside of the loft, found that more than anything he wants to coddle the boy. For a few desperate minutes, he had thought Mal might be all he has left of his wife, the only reminder of the love they have shared.

He has so needed his little boy close and safe, but now Marlow is starting to get a little stir crazy. He needs the stimulation of the city outside their loft, thrives on the multitudinous people and places open to explore in New York.

After Kate comes off of the phone with Doctor Burke and tells him they have an hour with him in two days time and that her therapist would be open to taking Rick on as a patient separately, he tentatively suggests that they might get out of the apartment today.

The weather is much cooler today, back to comfortable levels, and more than anything he wants to walk in the park with Kate's hand clasped loosely in his own and their son charging ahead of them across the grass.

Mostly, he expects her to say no. But she smiles brilliantly at him and scoops up their son as he runs past her through the living room, brushes her mouth at his ear. "Hey there, beautiful boy. You wanna go to the park with me and Daddy?"

Just that, just Kate referring to him as their son's father, is enough to have him turning half away, swallowing hard. It's utterly embarrassing, how much of a wreck he is for her. And he just can't figure out how to get it together.

She keeps surprising him, inviting him to share her bed and kissing his cheeks and holding his hand and rather than making him relax around her, it has him on edge around her, wondering exactly how far he can push.

He misses her so much, still. Hates that every interaction of theirs now floats like slick oil on top of a sea of discomfort and confusion and awkwardness. Mal is bubbling over with excitement now, tugging at Rick's hand, and so there's no time to creep away and lick his hurts alone.

And anyway. The best, most effective cure for any wound Rick might have is Kate Castle. A walk in the park, some sunshine. . .it will do him good.

They take the subway and Rick is stupidly grateful to see that he doesn't have to tell Kate to hold on to their son. Yes, okay, so not letting a two year old run riot in the train's car might just be common sense. But Kate sits Marlow on her lap and wraps both arms around his middle, her mouth resting at the crown of his head, and it's exactly what they always do.

Opposite them in the aisle, Rick pulls faces to entertain his son and joins a vigorous game of peekaboo. A couple of times, he catches Kate watching him and her face is softened with tenderness, her eyes warm and alight with something he might call love.

If he didn't know better.

An older man is sitting at Kate's side and he leans in, says something to her that Rick loses over the racketing sound of the train's journey along the tracks and the incoherent mumble of the announcements from somewhere over their heads. Whatever it is, it makes his wife blush and glance over at him a moment before she turns back to the stranger and says something he thinks might be _thank you_.

The carriage is crowded and at the next stop a gaggle of tourists pile on, weighed down with luggage. Rick gives up his seat to one of them and heads to stand opposite his wife instead, their knees knocking together as the train takes a corner. Mal wraps both arms around his father's leg, giggling at the unusual situation and Rick reaches down to muss up his son's hair.

He starts to slip his hand back into his pocket and then thinks better of it, instead tucks a loose curl back behind Kate's ear and skims his thumb along the hard edge of her cheekbone. She leans in to his touch, her eyes fluttering closed, and he leaves his hand right where it is.

The next stop is theirs and Kate seems to jolt back into awareness, standing up and shifting Marlow until she can grip him more comfortably. Rick has the diaper bag slung over his shoulder and Kate's wallet in his own pocket as well; she's got her phone, but all the rest of her things she's trusting him with.

They make their way through the crowd of people in the carriage, Rick first to let the width of his shoulders forge them a path and the heat of Kate's body close at his spine. One of Mal's little hands is splayed at his shoulder blade so he ploughs on through, reassured that his family is right behind him.

They didn't bring a stroller for Marlow; it's too much hassle to cope with the transfer from the Q train to make their way uptown, and their stop is so crowded that trying to battle through with the stroller seems more trouble than is really necessary.

Mal is a good walker, doesn't tire too easily, and whenever he does he's happy to curl up against the solid plane of his father's chest and let Rick carry him. Or his mommy, but more often than not Kate will instead stick close to Rick's side and pull faces at their son instead of carrying him herself.

When they make it out from the subway the sunlight is brilliant and Mal whimpers, buries his face against Kate's neck. Rick's wife is at his side now, one arm around their son, and with her free hand she reaches down and tangles her fingers in his.

It makes his stupid, tender heart kick hard in his chest and he sucks in a breath that catches in his lungs, makes him feel a little weak at the knees. They slip easily into the flow of foot traffic that crowds the sidewalk, and Rick is surprised to note that even when people knock against them Kate fights to keep a hold of his hand.

Once they arrive at the park Kate sets Marlow down, letting him run free across the grass and the two of them follow behind their son at a slower pace. If their son were more keen to escape they might keep him on a little more of a tighter leash, but Mal's most favourite game is spinning in circles until he gets dizzy and falls down into the grass.

And even when their son roams a little wider away from them, he comes back every five minutes or so and he seems like a different creature, shy and bashful as he presents his mother with a flower or a pebble he's found for her.

Kate halts Rick with a hand at his thigh and he has to fight not to let his whole body react to her touch, turning instead to face her. "Is it okay if we stop here?"

"Sure." He manages a smile despite the tumult in his guts. "Everything alright?"

For that, he earns himself the kind of beaming smile his wife usually hands out only on special occasions, when he's surprised her or he's been particularly sweet. "Yeah, good. I actually packed a couple extra things in the diaper bag. Thought we could have a picnic."

Oh. . ._wow_. "Sure, yes. Yeah. That sounds wonderful, Kate, thank you."

She shrugs like it's nothing, but the corner of her mouth quirks up in a pleased little smile even as she dips her head and takes the diaper bag from him. Unzipping it, she tugs out the multicoloured old blanket they always use. He can't even imagine where she must have found it; he hasn't seen it for a while, assumed it was lost in the belly of some closet somewhere.

A snap of her wrists and Kate lays the blanket down on the grass, sinking to sit cross-legged on top of it and calling out for their little boy. "Marlow, baby, come here. Come get some lunch, my man."

Their son flops down on his stomach on top of the blanket, pillowing his chin in his hands and grinning at his mother. Rick expects her to start rummaging for food in the bag but instead she surprises him - again - when she rolls onto her stomach and puts herself nose to nose with their little boy, pressing a smacking kiss to his cheek and then the end of his nose, too.

"Mommy, you're silly!" Mal giggles into the cup of his palms, peeking over the tops of his fingers at Kate. He catches her pulling a goofy face at him and he creases up with joy, erupting in a shower of giggles that pull Rick down, finally, to join his family on the blanket. Kate sits up when he does so, drawing her legs underneath herself and beaming at Mal.

Settling a palm low down at the flare of her hips, Rick grins at his wife and holds her gaze even as he responds to their son. "Mommy is silly, you're right Marlow."

And then he does something stupid. There are no excuses this time. No explanation for why he can't stop himself from leaning in and touching his mouth to Kate's. It's slow, gentle, and he takes a moment to savour the way it feels to be kissing her before he forces himself to break away.

When he gathers the courage to open his eyes Kate is staring at him, slack-jawed and her mouth still glistens everywhere he touched her.

"Momma, what I can eat?" Mal says insistently, crawling across the blanket to wedge himself between his parents. It seems to shake Kate out of whatever's going on in her head. Please God, let it not be her hashing out an escape plan.

He _knows_ he's pushing it too far, but damn it-

He's in love with her. And he's entirely out of practice at resisting his baser desires.

Kate pulls tupperware containers out of the diaper bag, sandwiches and carrot batons and a bag of chips to split between the three of them. She offers Marlow a bottle of water and he gulps down half of it in one sitting, apparently wiped out from the subway here and then his running about.

"Here baby, I made you PB&J." Kate says, her voice softer the way it often gets after he kisses her. Usually though, it doesn't happen unless he seeks a longer, deeper kiss from her. A brush of their lips has become so commonplace it hardly ever earns him more than an appreciative smile from her. But, well, none of this is commonplace for this Kate. He's astonished she's still sitting here in the grass with them.

Rick takes the sandwich that Kate offers him, uses his free hand to pop the top of the container that houses the carrot sticks and offer them first to his son and then to his wife. They eat with the sounds of Marlow's chatter filling the spaces that would otherwise be rapidly growing awkward between them.

He'll have to apologise, once Mal is out of earshot. And more importantly, he really has to figure out a way to control himself around her. He managed it for three years, after all. Sure, that was before he had any idea just how good it is to love Kate Beckett and share a life with her, but even so. Those are skills that were once finely honed, and he can only hope that he'll figure out how to recapture them with some speed.

After their son finishes eating and Rick wipes the smears of jelly and chocolate from around his mouth, he moves a couple feet away from him with the toy trucks Kate produces from the bag like magic.

Probably still close enough that he can hear his parents talking, but Mal is so engrossed in his game that Rick is sure he's not at all aware of the awful discomfort rolling over the two of them in waves.

Even so, he can't quite manage to find the courage to speak, and it's Kate who breaks the silence. "You kissed me."

"Kate-"

"And it was. . .not the first time. Since the accident." She finishes, somehow managing to look at him. He feels her eyes roaming the terrain of his face and his blood rushes cold, but he does her the courtesy of meeting her gaze.

Onto his face, he does his best to project the remorse that consumes him. The last thing he wants is to make her uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry, Kate. I know it's too much. I really am trying. It's just habit, I guess."

"Rick." She cuts in, gaze dropping to her lap. He follows it, watches her picking at the jagged edge of a fingernail. "I liked it. Kissing you."

"You- you did?" He finds himself stuttering, clenching his fists to stop from really, just laying her down in the middle of the park for the whole world to see.

A flush rises in her cheeks and she chews at her lower lip, but she's not taking it back and hope blooms in his chest, sweet as nectar. "I did. But Rick, we can't keep doing that. It's not fair for me to reciprocate that part of our relationship when I can't give back all the rest of it."

"Because you don't love me." He says, matter of fact. And he is trying, really he is, but there's an acerbic edge to his voice that makes his wife flinch. The hurt is just. . .so much.

For a moment, he really thinks that Kate might cry. "I really do care about you, Rick. You're a wonderful man. But as much as I might-" she pauses, seems to visibly steel herself. "Want you, it doesn't seem fair. "

"People who aren't in love can still have sex, Kate." He says quietly, tries not to sound like he's begging. Although really, that might be the very best descriptor of how he feels.

When Kate got hurt a carnal need blossomed in his stomach, a hungry maw gaping wide the same way it has every time one of them has gotten hurt since they've been together. The desperate yearning to reaffirm both of their lives, and this is the first time that they haven't been able to do so. So yes. He wants her badly, but maybe even more than that he just needs her.

"Not us, Rick. You told me. We've never been together without love being a part of it."

Shit. She's right. And honestly, however much he wants her, is he really ready to make love to her and not feel in every brush of her fingers and roll of her hips and touch of her mouth that she loves him back?

Most likely not. "Okay, Kate. Okay. I'm sorry." She nods, but he really doesn't think that she gets it. "You're more than enough for me. Just this. And I will never, ever cheat on you. I've got you; I don't need the sex. And I sure as hell won't go looking for it someplace else. It's not the sex that I want, it's you."

Relief floods her features and apparently her body too, hard enough that she's trembling with it. He snags her hand, brings it up to his mouth, brushes a kiss over her knuckles. And she looks so grateful, he feels a fissure strike his heart in two.

"I'm really trying, Rick. I don't know how to remember. I don't know how to be your wife again."

Her breath catches on something close to a sob and Rick curls his arm around her shoulders, draws her in close enough that his mouth meets her temple. "Shh, Kate. It's okay. You're doing so well. I couldn't be more proud of you."

And then she really does cry. But somehow, miracle woman that she is, she has it together by the time their son comes back and falls, delighted, into his mother's embrace.

* * *

**A/N:** I'd like to take the opportunity of this, the halfway point, to thank my wonderful beta BerkieLynn and my never-tiring cheerleaders Alexis, Lulu, Chole and Shannon, without whom this fic may never have gotten off the ground.

And you, the people reading and reviewing and favouriting and tweeting and showering this fic with so much love. I wish I had the words to truly explain how tremendously grateful I am to all of you.


	11. Chapter 11

**Jane Doe**

* * *

"Please don't be late." Rick says, elbow deep in suds at the kitchen sink. The sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows, the material straining tight across his biceps and pectorals. And he most definitely didn't miss the pretty flush in Kate's cheeks over breakfast, the way he had to call her name a couple times before he managed to snag her attention.

Over by the front door, his wife hovers with the bag she uses at the precinct halfway towards being slung over her shoulder. She's wearing pale grey slacks today, delicate in a metallic sort of way like the sky sometimes in the depths of winter. They're taut over her thighs, and he completely understands her distraction this morning. He's struggling in much the same way.

"I won't be late. I promise." Kate calls out to him. Tonight at seven they have their appointment with Doctor Burke, and already Rick's guts are in tumult. His wife huffs and he sets down the dish he was scrubbing onto the draining rack, snagging a dish towel to dry off before he heads to rescue her. "Being late for work is a different story, though."

Their son is wrapped around his mother's leg, all four of his limbs squeezing tight and weighing her down. It's nothing new for Rick; Mal's clinginess is infrequent but intense when it does come. But, well, Kate hasn't ever had to experience this before. And what happens next might well break her heart.

"Marlow, let go of Mommy." Rick says sharply, earning himself a frown from his wife. They figured out a long time ago that no amount of gentle persuasion works here, so now they've taken to going right for a firm, no nonsense approach.

On the floor beneath them, Marlow mewls and rubs his face against Kate's thigh. The difficult part is that, although he'll be fine a few minutes after his mother leaves, Mal's distress is genuine. "Mommy, don't go!" He wails, and Rick folds his arms.

"Marlow Alexander, right now. Let go of Mommy." He counts to five out loud, slowly, but Mal doesn't let go at all. Rick sinks to his haunches and wraps his arms around the chubby biceps of their little boy, peeling him off of Kate as gently as he can.

Mal screams and thrashes, his face rapidly growing a startling shade of red, and Rick stays on the floor with both arms around his son, holding him tight. "Kate, go. Just go now; it'll only get worse if you hover."

When he glances up at his wife her eyes are brimming with tears, her bottom lip trembling, but she steels herself and hoists her bag onto her shoulder. For a moment she hesitates, and he wonders if she'll stay and try to console their son herself, but instead she turns and leaves the loft, closing the door gently behind her.

"Mal." Rick says firmly, holding his son a little way apart from him, hands moving to cup the wings of his shoulder blades. He's such a tiny little thing, really, although he still carries some baby weight that makes him soft and plump and snuggly. "Mal, buddy. Calm down. Deep breaths, my man."

He waits, holding his son's gaze until Marlow starts to relax ever so slowly, his breathing becoming a little less shallow. It worries them both, or at least it used to worry Kate. That Mal can get so hysterical when his mother leaves.

Once Mal's face returns to its normal colour and he can breathe without a hiccuping sob interrupting him, Rick draws his son in and holds him close, a palm cupping the curve of his skull to offer the security and comfort that the boy needs. He's grown up in a lot of ways, a good little talker and so _smart_ a lot of the time that sometimes both Rick and Kate forget that their son's second birthday was only three months ago.

In so many ways, he's still just a baby. "There you go, buddy. It's alright. We can do a video call with Mommy later, and then you'll see her tonight when she comes home. Okay?"

"Okay, Daddy." Marlow mumbles, but when he pulls back he seems back to his usual self. He giggles, pressing his palms against Rick's cheeks and leaning in until his nose meets the sharp slash of his father's. "We can today go to soft play?"

"Would you like to?" Rick grins at his son, pulling back enough to press a kiss to the end of the boy's nose. His son nods fervently at him, grinning wide, and Rick holds his hands out to feed the birds with Mal. "Let's do that, then. Pass the time quickly until Mommy comes home."

"Daddy, I do love Mommy so much." Mal smiles, shy and sweet and a little embarrassed looking. He does tend to get a little bashful around Kate, overwhelmed by the outpouring of love his mother offers him.

Rick knows the feeling well. And misses it terribly. "I love Mommy so much, too."

* * *

"Hi." Kate tumbles through the front door of the loft and drops her bag down outside of the coat closet, still a little out of breath from jogging up the stairs. She's running late; taking the stairs rather than the elevator was definitely not any quicker, but it _felt_ more like she was achieving something. "Sorry, I know."

Castle glances up at her from the couch, his arm around Mal. Their son is perched on one of his father's thighs, his tiny feet propped against the opposite leg and a storybook almost swallowing him whole. Castle's mother is here too, sitting tall and regal in an armchair, but when she sees Kate she stands and comes to greet her.

Martha presses an effusive kiss against each of her cheeks and smoothes a hand down her hair, affection just pouring out from her. "Katherine, darling. How are you holding up?"

"I'm doing good, Martha." Kate smiles, squeezing the slender hand somehow encased by her own. "And I think tonight will help a lot. Talking to someone about it. Thank you so much for babysitting Marlow."

"Nonsense, darling. He's my grandson. It's a pleasure." Martha waves her hand in dismissal of Kate's statement and the two women head towards the boys on the couch. Really, they need to have left five minutes ago if they're going to make it comfortably in time for their appointment with Doctor Burke, but Kate doesn't see the harm in an extra thirty seconds to scoop her son up and kiss the warm creases of his neck where he smells so good and already, so familiar.

She holds her little boy close against her for a few moments, and then she hands Mal over to his grandmother. Standing up from the couch, Rick leans in and kisses first his mother's cheek, then his son's. "Be good for Gram, my man. Mommy and I will see you in the morning."

"Bye Mommy, bye Daddy." Marlow beams, and when he gets a smile back from his parents he buries his face in Martha's neck, peeking at them from around his own hands. The difference from this morning when Kate left is astonishing, and she wonders if it's just the factor of his grandmother's presence that has her son not at all concerned by her departure, or whether there's something else at play.

Rick probably knows, but she's a little afraid to ask him. He's been quiet all day, hardly spoke to her at breakfast and when he video called her at lunch he handed the phone straight over to their son. And now she thinks about it, he hasn't said a word to her since she got home.

She manages to bite her tongue all the way to the elevator, but as the car plummets down towards the lobby and Rick's hand stays limp at his side where she was expecting him to reach for hers, she can't help herself any more. "Are you alright?"

Her voice seems to startle him and he half-turns to face her, frowning slightly. "Fine." His voice is quiet, his face is drawn, and suddenly it hits her.

"You're nervous."

"I'm not-" He cuts himself off under the steel of her gaze, dropping his chin and huffing a sigh so long and sorrowful that Kate watches the broad stretch of his chest collapse with it. "Okay. Fine. I'm nervous about it. I've never been to therapy, Kate."

"I thought you said you went when you met your father?" Kate works to keep her voice unassuming, wants Rick to feel like he can trust her. She knows that with the loss of her memories, she lost a lot of the trust he must have once had in her too. But if nothing else, he's the father of her son and she wants desperately to be there for him.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Rick pushes the other deep into the recess of the pocket of his jeans and carefully doesn't look at her. "I didn't. We talked, and you suggested it to me. But I didn't go. I found that just talking it out with my mother and with you helped. But I guess I can't do that this time."

"Rick." She's horrified to find herself whispering, her voice a hollowed out shell of a thing entirely unequipped for the magnitude of what she wants to say. To have him understand. "You can still talk to me. I know I don't remember so many things, but I'll do my best to help. You're my husband. We're a team, no matter what."

He stares at her for a long moment, long enough that the elevator doors slide open and the two of them stride out, Kate slightly ahead of Castle. The doorman holds the door of their building open and they step through, out onto the street. Dusk is rolling in from across the water, the sun just starting to dip into the belly of the earth, and foot traffic is light in this part of the city.

Kate reaches for Rick's hand and grips tight, even when it seems like the natural ebb and flow of their walking might nudge them apart. He still hasn't responded to her outpouring in the elevator, but she supposes that it's just the nerves, anxiety making him mute.

They catch a cab to the therapist's office, an unassuming building that's much nicer inside than Kate was expecting. There's another elevator ride up to the correct floor and then the receptionist offers them a polite smile, asks that they take a seat.

Once they're settled, Kate rests a hand at Rick's knee and follows his gaze outside, watches the sun splash against the windows of the buildings that surround this one. "Have you ever been here before?"

"No, I haven't." He murmurs, but his hand comes to cover hers at his leg and her heart calms its terrified pounding. In all of this, everything that's happened, she hasn't really considered the possibility that he might be the one to leave. "I've waited for you a couple times, met you outside. But I've never been inside."

She nods in answer, leaning back a little in her seat. They wait for maybe five minutes, and then Burke comes to the door of his office and motions for them to come in. The office itself is beautiful, an enormous window stretching across almost an entire wall. Blinds cover it, but they're slatted open to let the light spill lazily inside.

Burke settles into an armchair and gestures for the two of them to sit, a chair for each of them as well. The belly of the seat is deep, the black leather soft enough to sink into, but rather than finding comfort in the way it swallows her up Kate feels vulnerable, chooses instead to stay perched on the edge.

Once the two of them are settled, Burke clasps his hands in his lap and the corners of his mouth turn up in something that might be a reassuring smile. Already, Kate can see why she chose this man for her therapist. His calm, no nonsense demeanour, the quietness. . .all of it makes her feel more comfortable opening up than she had ever imagined.

"So, Kate, we talked a little on the phone. You said you got in an accident and don't remember anything of the past ten years?" Burke starts. His voice is low, soothing, and although it doesn't settle her in the way the steady rumble of Rick's words do, she still appreciates it.

Already, she finds herself wanting to fidget, half tempted to sit on her hands. "Yes. I woke up thinking it was 2008, and I haven't been able to reclaim any of the missing memories so far."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that. Have you remained at home with Rick?" Burke asks, looking as if he expects her answer to be that she fled.

Well. He does know her pretty well, it would seem. And her default mode - in 2008 at least - has been to run whenever things get difficult and uncomfortable. But she has a husband and a son now; running is no longer a viable option. "Yes, I have. The option was there for me to stay with my dad, but the doctors and Rick all thought that it might help my memories come back if I was surrounded by a familiar environment."

"The last time you came to see me, Kate, you were pregnant. Your baby must be about two now. How are you coping with motherhood, and not remembering your child?"

It still stings, even though Marlow is more amazing than she ever could have imagined. "I'm enjoying it. But we haven't really encountered any hurdles with him, yet. So I don't know if I'm actually good at being his mother, or just good at cuddles and playtime."

"That's actually something I wanted to talk about." Rick butts in and then pauses, glancing at Burke for permission to continue. He gets a nod of approval and continues on, with a little less fervour this time. "I wanted to thank you for this morning. I know it was difficult to leave when Marlow was so upset, but you trusted me and you did it anyway. So thank you."

"I'm following your lead with him, Rick." She shrugs, a little embarrassed by how genuine he seems in his gratitude. It's just that she feels absolutely undeserving. This morning, her howling son attached to her leg, she had been helpless.

In being Marlow's mom and dad, she wants them to be partners. And so much of the time it seems like she gets to do the fun part and then Rick picks up her slack and is the disciplinarian, and that's just so terribly unfair.

"You're doing so much better than I had dared to hope." Her husband murmurs, careful not to look at either her or Doctor Burke.

The therapist refocuses his attention on Rick and Kate lets herself relax a little bit, grateful that the firing squad has momentarily lost interest in her.

"Rick, I can't imagine this has been easy for you. How are you coping?"

There's a pregnant pause, and then Rick's eyes slowly slip closed and his mouth stitches into a seam. They wait, the two of them, for Castle to speak, and when he does his voice is an ancient thing scarred by battle and loss and heartbreak. "I, uh. . .I'm not. Coping. I need my wife, and I know that Kate can't be that for me, and I don't blame her for that. But it's been harder than I could have imagined, not having the woman who loves me to lean on."

"That's understandable, Rick." Burke says gently. He looks as if he might carry on speaking, but Kate just can't stay silent. Not after that.

"Rick, you can lean on me. I know I'm not. . .where I used to be." She swallows, the acrid taste of how much she despises her own self sitting heavy in her throat. And even now, she finds it impossible to say out loud that she doesn't love him. "But I care about you. A lot. You're my husband, the father of my son. And everything you've done, everything you've told me about our life before my accident, just proves that you're someone I can trust."

"I don't want to burden you, Kate. I remember what you were like back when we met. You didn't want anything to do with me at first. Not until I proved myself. But this time around, you don't have the option of walking away."

Kate's eyes slam closed and she chokes back a sob, startled to find that her whole body is trembling. And then Burke's voice cuts through the silence, calm as ever. "Rick, we know that Kate's not the woman you married. But you're operating under the assumption that she's the woman you first met, when that might not be true. This version of Kate is an entirely new woman."

There's a strangled noise from Rick and Kate's eyes fly open. She glances over at him, finds tears silently rolling down his cheeks and that does it, breaks open the wiry cage around her heart. The two of them sit, both crying as quietly as they can manage and Burke silent opposite.

Already, she's exhausted. It's going to be a long couple of hours.

* * *

When they spill out of the building that houses Doctor Burke's office into the almost-darkness of the city, Rick is met with the same disconcerting sensation as when you leave a movie theatre and find the sun has set without you there to witness it. Even though the therapist's office has enormous windows, an abundance of natural light, he was so focused on the words exchanged inside the room that he didn't even notice the darkness until just now.

They need to catch a cab, head home. But first. "Kate."

She turns back to face him and he reaches for her, draws her in slowly against his chest. He knows a lot of the things he said hurt her, but she comes willingly and her head rests at his shoulder, her heels putting her at almost the same height as him.

He talked about how he's finding it hard to trust her. About how there are things he's shared with her as his wife that were so difficult he doesn't know if he has the strength to open up all over again. And he talked about intimacy, about how the small ways she's been touching him leave him confused and reeling and desperate for more. For things she's already made clear she isn't willing to give.

"Are we gonna be okay?" He whispers against the shell of her ear, still trembling. It started within the first thirty seconds of entering the building, and it doesn't feel like he's going to be able to stop any time soon.

Not with Kate's own confessions swirling around his head. That she's scared, terrified of getting this wrong and disappointing him. That a huge part of her thinks he should cut his losses and leave, find someone more deserving of all the love he has to give.

As if there could ever be anyone else in the entire world that could so captivate and amaze and astound him as Kate Beckett has from the moment they met.

She pulls back from his hug, a hand lifting between them as if to cup his cheek before she thinks better of it. Suddenly, his body is flooded with regret. He never should have brought up how the way she touches him makes him feel. Not if it means he's going to lose the only small part of their normal he's been able to cling to.

"Of course we are. Therapy is really difficult, but it's so worth it. I'm really glad to know how you're feeling, Rick. And I'll try to work on being better." She says resolutely, shoving her hands into the pockets of her slacks.

He hates this, he really does. Broken Kate, scared Kate. A Kate who isn't sure where she stands.

Because he _knows_. He knows exactly where Kate Beckett belongs. Right at his side, the two of them strong and unwavering and just so tall. "I'll work on it too, Kate. We'll figure it out."

"I know." She manages a smile that quickly blooms into a yawn and then she giggles, seemingly embarrassed. He wants to say that a yawn is nothing, that he's seen everything of her, but that's just too much after the brutal couple of hours they just spent with Doctor Burke. "Right now though, I just want to go home."

They catch another cab, make their way up to the loft in an easy silence. After all the talking they both did this evening, it's hardly surprising that they've fallen mute. But he feels a hell of a lot more relaxed, now. Even if he did cry in front of Burke, something he promised himself he wouldn't do.

Inside their home, all of the lights are off and the two of them slip off their shoes and pad slowly up the stairs. Kate nudges open the door to their son's bedroom and they both step inside. Marlow is asleep on his back, both arms wrapped tight around Jolly Tall and his comforter pushed down around his feet.

Rick stands for a moment and watches his wife tug the sheets up over their sleeping son, tucking them around him and brushing a feather-light kiss to his forehead. He leans in as well, touches his mouth to the crown of Mal's head where his hair is a little damp with sleep sweat.

In the rocker by the window, Rick's mother is asleep as well and he rouses her as gently as he can, waits for the sleepy blur of nonrecognition to pass before she smiles at him. The adults leave Marlow's room and head back downstairs in silence; his mother's shoes are by the door and she steps into them, accepts the kiss Rick presses to her cheek.

"Are you alright getting home?" He says quietly, hyperaware of the shadow of Kate's presence at his back.

His mother waves him off, nods. "Of course, darling. I'm a New Yorker."

He accepts that, watches his mother make her way down the hall and waits for her to step onto the elevator before he closes the front door. It's really not that late, not even ten pm, but he and Kate are both drained. They make it halfway to the bedroom before it hits him and he freezes, spinning around to face his wife. "Kate. You didn't eat dinner."

"Oh." She breathes out, almost as startled as he is. "I really don't want to. I don't feel like eating right now. I just want to sleep."

"Alright." He agrees, no energy left to fight with her about this. They dress for bed quickly, take turns in the bathroom, and Rick barely remembers to turn up the volume on the baby monitor to be sure they'll hear Marlow through the fog of exhaustion before sleep closes right over the top of his head.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Sensitive subject matter towards the latter half of this chapter. Tread carefully, my dears.

* * *

**Jane Doe**

* * *

Therapy is brutal for the first couple of weeks.

It makes them stiff and awkward around one another, but that's not the worst thing. She can't tell, exactly, what the worst part about it _is_. Maybe the sessions they have together, when she has to sit and listen to all of his fears and insecurities and doubts. Or maybe the one evening a week when Kate comes home early and makes dinner for herself and her son while Castle is at his own appointment.

Every time he comes back to her he seems hollowed out, empty. As if it's exhausting for him to go through. And her stupid brain won't stop taunting her, imagining the kinds of things he's saying to Burke when he doesn't have to worry about protecting her feelings. They had talked with the therapist about procedural memory, the ways that Kate's body remembers Rick even where her mind does not.

Burke had suggested that they use that, work on reestablishing their relationship with the assistance of that physicality. But Rick had declined, quietly and with such gravity had said that he's in enough turmoil without the confusion of Kate's touch. So she's avoided touching him as much as she can. They still share a bed, but all of the rest of it they push down and suppress. It's been harder than she ever could have imagined.

The thing is, though, that it's working. However difficult the therapy sessions might be, however hard it is not to touch him, the two of them are getting much better at opening up and being honest about how they're feeling. She's been able to ask him more about their life together, fill in a lot more of the gaps, and in return he's offering her details about himself.

There's been a lot of talking, both of them on their backs in the bed they share with darkness shrouding them and the snuffling sounds of their little boy as he sleeps crackling through from the monitor. Kate feels like she knows him, now. Of course not as well as she must have done having had nine years to learn all of the little things. But the most important stuff, the things that really count? She's secure in them again.

Across the booth from where she sits, her father slides in and leans back against the faded maroon leather of the bench seat. It startles her from her musings and she glances up at him, untangling her hands from around the coffee mug in front of her so she can reach across and squeeze her dad's fingers.

A couple days ago when the reminder popped on her phone that she was due to have brunch with her father on Sunday, today, at their usual place, she hadn't been at all surprised. They're creatures of habit, she and her father both. Once a month, every month since her father got sober, they meet to talk and eat and nurture the small segment of a family that remains for them.

Kate had asked her husband if he joins her and he had said no, that he usually fills the time in which Kate is gone by going with Mal to meet Alexis for coffee somewhere. So even though Kate's family has grown and expanded beyond anything she's ever dared to hope for, this sacrosanct meeting remains just for her and her father.

"Katie. You look well, sweetheart." Her dad smiles across the table, nodding at the waitress who shoots him a questioning glance. They'll have their usual.

Grinning back at her father, Kate loosens the scarf from around her neck and pools it onto the bench seat beside her, on top of the coat she draped there earlier. The crispness of this October has taken them all by surprise; there is nothing more adorable in the world than Marlow bundled up in coat and scarf and hat and gloves, barrelling along next to his mom and dad.

"I feel really great. I'm sorry we had to miss last month's breakfast." Kate says, tugging her phone free from her pocket when it vibrates against her thigh.

She has a text message from her husband that, when she opens it, turns out to be a garbled string of nonsense words, most of which seem to have been birthed through autocorrect. As she stares at the message, unsure where to even begin making sense of it, another text pops up on screen below the first.

_Sorry, Mal got my phone_.

Kate laughs, shaking her head, and turns her cell phone around so her father can read the display. He chuckles, the low sound rich with a mirth that seems to chase all of her happiest childhood memories. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad Marlow got over the bug quickly, and that it didn't take you or Rick out too."

"Me too." She grimaces, pushing the heels of her hands against her eyes a moment. Her poor baby boy had been utterly miserable, had spent the previous night throwing up and crying intermittently, and so Kate hadn't had to think twice about cancelling the meet with her father.

Four weeks ago, and she can hardly believe that it has already been six since the accident that stole her history from her. Across the table, her father watches her intently, his face softened with kindess. He's old now, her dad. Still fit and healthy and active, still likes to head up to the cabin for fishing and hiking and communion with nature. But there are deep crevices around his eyes and mouth, a kind of tiredness that sometimes takes over the set of his features.

It's been a long time for him to miss Kate's mother. The cluster of years spent without Johanna starting to spill over from the cup of his palms. But Kate has seen the light in her father's eyes when he's around his grandson, the way Marlow adores his papa.

There's a moment of silence, saved from awkwardness when the waitress brings their food and refills each of their coffee mugs. Kate can see the questions that crowd her father's tongue, the lawyer in him wanting to probe her for information, but his fatherly instincts win out and he lets her eat in silence for ten minutes or so.

Once they've had their fill, plates pushed aside so they can rest hands and elbows against the table, her father starts. "So, Katie. . .it's been six weeks. I know you've settled into motherhood; I've seen you with Marlow. But what about Rick?"

"We've been going to therapy. We have a session together once a week, and then we each have an individual session as well." Kate explains. She wants to start cutting down soon, certainly on her individual sessions. She feels good, strong.

The feeling of temporariness has worn off now, and Kate has accepted that this is really her life. She really is married to Richard Castle; they really do have a child together. And, most surprising of all, she likes it. She's _happy_.

Sure, things with Rick are still tentative a lot of the time, but it no longer feels so cataclysmic. With Burke's help, they're actually managing to work towards the idea of nurturing their relationship again. That someday maybe, even if Kate doesn't get her memories back, her marriage can be as strong and as wonderful as it once was.

"Is the therapy helping?"

"Yes, actually. I feel a lot better about everything. I feel like. . .he's my husband. I married him for a reason. I just have to learn what that reason was, and the therapy is really helping. Plus just living with him, you know? Sharing a life."

It's more of an outpouring than her father was expecting, clearly; he lifts an eyebrow at her and takes a long sip of his coffee, lets Kate's words stew and then settle between them. Sometimes she forgets that she's not the only one who is well versed in interrogation technique.

"And how is Rick dealing with it?" Her father asks, his tone light and conversational. But Kate knows. A couple of weeks ago, her father came over to the loft along with Martha and Alexis, for a family dinner. And neither Kate nor her husband missed the way Jim scrutinised Rick from across the table.

Shrugging, Kate taps her fingernails against the screen of her phone where it rests next to her thigh on the bench seat. "He seems to be doing better. Opening up to me more. And I think he's really starting to believe that I won't run."

That last part, she knows for a fact. It had come up in their session with Doctor Burke earlier this week. Rick is no longer worried that Kate will run away from the responsibilities of this life; in fact, it's quite the opposite. Her husband is worried that Kate is staying because of a sense of duty. That she doesn't love him, never will, and she's only sticking around for their son.

It's not _true_, and she had almost blurted that out right there in front of Burke. She thinks she might be getting there, but she wants to be careful and sure. Doesn't dare put a name to it, even inside of her own head. There's just no way that she's going to bring it up with Rick until she's absolutely certain.

"I'm glad to hear it, Katie. And for what it's worth, I"m proud of you. I watched you struggle for so long before you and Rick managed to figure it out and build a life together. I would have hated to see you walk away from that."

Oh, she knows. Castle has filled in a lot of the gaps in their story for her. A lot of the framework she learned when he told her about her mother's case; it seems like Johanna Beckett's murder was a catalyst for much of their relationship.

But there are other things, other experiences that nudged them ever closer until they gave up fighting it. Night after night, Kate has lain with her head on her own pillow, safely away from the temptation to rest it on his chest, and listened to him weave stories for her.

He told her about bullets, tigers, bombs, freezers. The kinds of crazy things that she can't remember ever having happened to her, that weren't a part of her life before Rick. They've laughed about it, together in their bed, but Kate hasn't missed the sharp cut to his voice sometimes. The ghost of past hurts that won't seem to leave him alone.

Obviously, there are smaller details that Rick hasn't been able to share with her, things that have escaped his own memory. The irony makes him laugh, puts that look on his face that makes her think maybe he's going to kiss her.

He never does, but she doesn't feel quite so desolate about it anymore. That day too will come.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dad. And trust me, I know how lucky I am to have him. He's been so patient." Kate feels her face unravelling into silly tenderness, and she doesn't bother to reel it in. Not here, not with her father.

Her dad reaches across the table for her and takes her hand, squeezes. "Katie? I love you."

"I love you, too." She smiles, and then by mutual agreement the two of them are sliding out of their booth and wrapping themselves back up in all of their winter layers. Her father opens his arms to her and Kate accepts the embrace, her head settling in the crook of his neck.

Her relationship with him is pretty different to how she remembers it. Partly due to the missing ten years, she imagines, but also the empathy that Kate has for her father now that she has her own child. Being a parent is not at all easy.

And, well, she's starting to understand why he drowned in the bottle after they lost Johanna. From the looks of things, the relationship she one day hopes to regain having with Rick. . .she has no idea how she'd cope if that was taken from her.

"Let's do family dinner sometime soon." Kate says when she steps back from her father's hug. "I'll call?"

For that, she earns herself a grin that creases up around her father's eyes. "You do that."

Her dad leaves enough money on the table to cover their bill and a generous tip and they walk out of the diner together, shoulders brushing. Out front, they share another hug and then they part ways. Kate's father catches a cab, his apartment on the other side of town, but the walk back to the loft is not far at all. In spite of the cold and the sky that rapidly grows into a threatening swirl of steel and ink, she finds herself smiling.

Joy bubbles up inside of her at the prospect of seeing her boys, and it's barely been a couple hours since she said goodbye to them. Kate presses a hand to her mouth so her smile doesn't completely baffle the people passing by her on the sidewalk.

Oh goodness. Yes, it's undeniable. Kate Beckett is smitten.

* * *

When Kate came home from brunch with her father on Sunday she was almost giddy, swinging their son up high before she snuggled him close and stretching up on tiptoe when Rick came near, dropping a smacking kiss against his cheek. But now it is Thursday.

It is Thursday, and Rick has only seen his wife for a handful of minutes this week. It is Thursday, and Kate has been a ghost in the loft, only making it home to crash in their bed for a sparse cluster of hours each night.

Rick is waiting up on the couch for her, laptop balanced on his thighs and his fingers make a slow but steady process across the keys. Tonight is not a night when the words crowd at his fingertips and his hands work the keys so quickly, so deftly that an ache starts out in his palms and travels all the way down the pathways of his wrists to nestle and throb in his elbows.

No. Tonight his words are sparse but, he thinks, powerful. He's being careful, choosing only the ones that are needed. And yes, he's more than a little distracted.

A little while ago, Kate sent him a text to say that they've caught their killer and she'll be home soon. It's a relief, that the case is over, but he knows how hard it's been on her. The whole situation has strengthened his resolve to get Marlow into preschool, and soon.

He loves his son, adores getting to be a stay at home father and delight in the new world that Mal opens out for him. But a couple days a week, he needs to be back at the precinct. He needs to be his wife's partner again.

The door to the loft pushes open and Rick closes the lid of his laptop, sets it beside him on the couch and stands up to meet her. He left on a light in the kitchen and a lamp in the living room; the loft is thick with shadow but there's enough to see the slick places at Kate's cheeks where she hasn't been able to hold back the tears.

"Rick-" She chokes out, and he has her in his arms before she even draws breath.

His biceps are big, he's always been aware of that, and once - a long time ago - Kate told him there's no place in the world she feels safest than with the crush of his body around hers. He can't be sure that that is still true, but he has to hope. "Oh Kate. Sweetheart, shh, I got you. Don't cry."

"They were just so tiny." She whispers, and then she's sobbing against his shoulder. It's loud enough that concern flares in his gut, the worry that Kate will wake their son. Mal hates seeing Kate upset, especially when he can't understand why.

Going slowly, Rick guides them towards their bedroom and over the threshold. He hesitates for barely a moment and then he slides his palms inside of her jacket and guides it down her shoulders and off, letting it pool on the floor at her feet.

She's wearing a white button down, a shirt he's come to associate with disaster after more than one heartbreak with her wearing it. Even so, he takes his time, freeing each button from the material one by one until it gapes. He eases the shirt all the way off and leaves her for just a moment, long enough to reach into a drawer in the dresser and find one of his own t-shirts.

It's soft, worn thin and cozy and Rick tugs it over her head, feeds her arms through the sleeves. He reaches up underneath the material to unclasp her bra and tugs that free as well, kneeling down to take off her pants. When he straightens up again, Kate in only her underwear and his too big shirt, he sees that she's trembling. Her eyes are glazed over, blank, but when he takes her hand she does at least come back to him.

He brings her with him over to their bed and turns down the sheets, nudges her to climb in and follows like a shadow behind her. Tugging the sheets up over them, he wraps both arms around her and gathers her up until she's draped half on top of him, nose pressed close against his neck.

"I saw Mal in every one of them. All of those little faces." She murmurs. In all of the years he's known her, he can't recall Kate ever sounding this brittle, this haunted. "Rick, if he. . .I wouldn't survive it."

Carding a hand through her hair over and over, Rick splays his other palm at the dip between the wings of her shoulder blades and presses her close, his mouth forming a kiss against her forehead. "I know. But he's okay, Kate. He's right upstairs, safe asleep in his bed. Do you want to see him?"

"No. I'd only disturb him. And I'm afraid if I look at him right now I'll just see them. I can't take that."

"Okay. Alright, Kate. You'll see him in the morning." He does his best to soothe her, hoping the closeness of his body underneath the sheets will do for her what his words just can't. There've been difficult cases before, obviously. Even some that have involved children.

But none since their own son was born. Earlier this evening, Esposito was texting Rick, keeping him updated as Ryan and Kate interrogated a suspect.

The guy turned out to be their killer. And, well, both Kate and Kevin have been transposing the faces of their own children over those of the victims all week. A tiny slither of Rick almost feels a little sorry for the guy; Beckett and Ryan, according to Sito at least, rained hell.

"I'm so proud of you, Kate." He murmurs to his wife, shifting a little to get comfortable underneath her. "You got justice for the families. I know you know how much that means."

"But I can't bring their babies back." She says, so quietly he almost misses it.

And she's right. He remembers so clearly the all-consuming panic when Alexis was kidnapped, the terrible dread. He can't even begin to imagine the pain if he had lost her for good, doesn't even want to think about it. And Marlow, their sweet, beautiful son.

They both would give their own lives to keep him safe. The thought of losing him has nausea rolling in Rick's guts and he swallows hard, draws in a lungful of Kate's familiar scent that does at least seem to settle him. "You did everything you possibly could have done. You're extraordinary."

For that, he feels a smile against the tender skin of his neck. Over the course of several days, Kate read all of the Nikki Heat books. And each time, he got to watch her pause on the dedication pages. She got to read them over again for the first time and this time, he got to see her reaction.

Granted, he did get to see the nebulous mix of embarrassment and delight that swarmed her face when he first called her extraordinary all those years ago. But this time he got a wide grin, a murmur of thanks.

She'd been mournful when she saw the words he had offered in memory of their fallen captain. Had blushed when she read that he wishes for their dance to never end. And then she'd tracked their relationship through these intensely private, public words he has shared with her. The dedication he had already written for _Raging Heat_, that called her his wife even though their wedding didn't go entirely to plan. The handful of words he picked to show how proud and grateful he was to be her husband every day for the book that he pushed to be released on their first anniversary.

The dedication he'd poured over for days, trying to find the exact right words for the enormity of his gratitude to her, and his unfathomable joy and adoration for the life being nurtured in her belly. And then after that - _for my wife. Thank you for our son_. The simplest, but the one that makes even his knees turn liquid when he thinks of it.

If Kate has needed proof of all that they've weathered, the books he's come to think of as _theirs_ are it. "Kate? I love you."

It's the first time he's allowed himself to say the words exactly like that since the hospital. Frank and honest and stripped raw. Kate goes very still, and his heart kicks violently, but then she draws an arm around his waist and her fingers burrow up underneath his shirt, seeking bare skin.

It makes need flare sharply in his stomach but he dampens it viciously, absolutely won't give in. Likewise, he won't push her away from him. Rick tightens the grip of his arms and holds her until she stops crying. His skin feels a little stiff with her tears, brittle even, but when Kate sighs out a breath and her whole body goes limp he finds that it ceases to matter.

"My job is often hard, but it hasn't ever been like this. And I don't remember what it's like to have you at the precinct, but I kept finding myself wishing you were there anyway. To make me laugh, make it easier." She confesses, and his heart soars.

Kate wants him with her at work. Not because she's seen the evidence for herself of how great a crime solving team they make, but because everything she's learned of him in living together has convinced her of it anyway. "You called it pulling your pigtails, once. Said you'd gotten used to it."

"That's exactly it." She huffs a laugh, shaking her head against his shoulder. "Pulling my pigtails. Yeah. Can you miss something you don't remember ever having?"

"I think so, Kate." He murmurs back to her. And even if she is still a little shaky from her crying jag, for the first time in such a very long time Rick feels the seeds of hope burrow close to his heart and take root, preparing to sprout and grow as long as Kate continues to nurture them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Jane Doe**

* * *

After the horror of that case, Kate's team has the next couple days off. Kate has Sunday off every week anyway, which means she has three days stretched out in front of her, blissfully interrupted. This might be one of her favourite things about the life she's woken up into. Back in 2008 she hated taking time off, had nothing to fill it with other than laundry and cleaning and menial tasks that did little but make her realise how desperately lonely a life she was trudging through.

It isn't like that now. She has her father still, of course. And a husband and son, quasi daughter and wonderful mother in law. And further than that even, her beautiful nieces, the sisterhood offered by Lanie and Jenny.

She woke early this morning, the sun struggling its way over the horizon as Kate's own circadian rhythms dragged her into consciousness. When she went to check on her son, the twist of nausea still in her guts as she remembered the tiny, fragile victims of the man they caught only yesterday, Marlow had been sitting up in bed surrounded by action figures.

Stooping to kiss him, Kate settled cross legged at the other end of the mattress from her little boy and joined in his game, guided by him. It had helped immensely, more even than the comfort of Rick's embrace last night. After how much she's forced herself to cut back on the physical affection she can't help but want to show him, the way he held her had been a blessed relief.

Kate hopes it can be a turning point. That he won't be so damaged by her touching him now, and she can do it more readily.

God, she misses holding his hand.

And yes, that's ridiculous, because it's been what? Seven weeks since she lost all of her memories. But in that time she's grown to care deeply for her husband. Last night was not the first time she's come home and cried because of a difficult case. But it was the first - that she can remember - when the whole world didn't seem like quite such an awful place. Not with the scent of him smoothing over her skin, the drugging lull of his breathing beneath her ear.

Eventually, Mal had gotten bored with his game and come crawling into her lap instead, his arms around her shoulders and then his legs wrapping at her hips as well, clinging like a newborn animal. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe Kate's son really did sense how badly she needed a hug from him, but the last of the tension in her slipped away as easily as her little boy's hand tangled in the neckline of her shirt.

She had suggested that they make breakfast in bed for Rick and Mal had giggled his agreement, tottering ahead of her down the hallway. At least he slowed down before he got to the staircase, took those awful hazardous steps slowly.

Every time she watches him make his way downstairs her heart lurches, the fear that he'll fall through the gap between the steps clutching at her. He didn't, of course, and now they're hovering outside the door to Kate's bedroom.

She's got the tray with the breakfast things on and she nods at her son, gives him permission. Mal flings the door open, his excitement spilling over, and he charges for the bed and climbs right up, landing heavy on his father's stomach.

Immediately, Castle's eyes pop open and he groans dramatically, his arm landing across their son's body like a falling oak to pin the squirmy toddler against his chest. "Hey buddy. What's going on?"

"Mommy and me did make you breakfast." Mal beams in delight, wriggling around on top of his father. From beneath their son, Rick struggles his way upright and leans back against the headboard, glancing towards Kate where she hovers in the doorway and offering her a tender smile.

It's all the encouragement she needs and she comes right to the bed and climbs into it on her knees, the tray gripped tight in both hands. "Mal baby, come sit with me. Give Daddy some space to eat."

Their son spills out of the loose hold of Rick's arms and comes to sit at his mother's side instead, burrowing close as Kate hands the tray over to her husband.

"Wow!" He beams, and it seems genuine. Not like he's playing up his delight for the benefit of their little boy, but rather that he is actually delighted. "Look at _this_. It looks delicious. Mal, which is the yummiest part? What should I try first?"

"Bacon." Mal erupts with laughter, crawling across the sheets to nudge his way underneath Rick's arm. He stretches his legs out in front of him, arms pinned tight and he looks so overjoyed to be sat beside his father, like he's trying to look so grown up, that Kate laughs and snags her phone from the nightstand to take a picture.

"Do you two want some of this?" Rick lifts an eyebrow, glances at Kate before his eyes drop back down to the food in front of him.

She may have gotten just a little carried away. Gratitude makes her silly for him, made her dance around the kitchen with her son like a fool. "We ate as we went, but he can have more if he's hungry."

Kate shifts to cross her legs underneath her and watches her boys have their fill of breakfast. After a couple of minutes she hears the click of the coffee machine coming on and heads to the kitchen to fix a mug for herself and her husband.

As she waits for the liquid to drip down into the pot she hears Rick and Marlow chatting together, too quiet to make out any of the words but it has her grinning wide, a hand coming up as if to capture some of that joy. She comes back with the coffee and sets Rick's mug down on the nightstand, cradles her own in both hands as she settles to sit again.

Inevitably, Mal gets bored with the food and with sitting in bed and disappears off towards the living room. They wait in silence for a moment until they hear the sound of one of his toys clicking on, the music flaring to life and jarring them both.

After a few moments of quiet, Rick sets his cutlery down and shifts the tray to the nightstand, drawing his legs up to mirror the way Kate is sitting. "I was thinking we should see about getting him into preschool. I love being his dad, I really do, but I miss being at the precinct. I miss working with you."

"Don't you usually have to get them on a waiting list before they're even born?" Kate asks, not sure from where she even acquired that knowledge.

Her husband nods, but he's reaching for his phone and fiddling with it, handing it to her with the web browser open. "Usually, yes. But Kate. . .we have a lot of money. A lot of places can be persuaded by that."

"Okay." She says slowly. It still takes her by surprise, weeks later, when he refers to them as _we_. Not as much surprise as when she checked her bank accounts and found a joint account with a completely ridiculous amount of money in it. "What do we need to do?"

"I made a list of the places I think would be good for him. You look at it and let me know which ones you think work, and we'll call and see if we can visit."

Well, that seems easy enough. And it makes her happy to have an action plan, makes her feel secure in the knowledge that whatever it is, she'll get it done.

* * *

It took them almost all of the time Kate had from work to look into possible preschools for Marlow, in between actually taking care of the boy himself and heading over to Alexis' apartment to help her redecorate and all of the other little things they did.

Kate went back to work yesterday and landed a fresh body not five minutes after she stepped off of the elevator; she had sent him a grumbling text message that made him laugh loud enough to earn an inquisitive look from their son.

By some miracle, they secured an appointment to look around the preschool at the top of their list. It's for this evening, five o'clock, and Alexis just called to tell him she's on her way up from the lobby. His daughter, his eldest baby, is going to hang out with her father and her brother this afternoon and then babysit Marlow later while Rick and his wife visit the school.

Marlow's name is already down on the list for kindergarten at Marlowe Prep, the school Alexis attended. They hadn't even realised the coincidence of their son sort of, almost, being named after his big sister's school until they had enrolled him and it had made Kate huff and roll her eyes.

Back then, Rick didn't know how hard it would be to not be at the precinct. Alexis never had a nanny or preschool; he loved being her daddy and sharing the magic of every day with his baby girl. But he misses his wife, misses his quasi career as _Assistant Volunteer Homicide Detective_, and he wants that back.

And anyway, Mal is such a social little thing, always making friends with whoever they stumble across when they explore the city together. He needs interaction with kids his own age, and Rick has resigned himself to the fact that that's something he simply can't provide.

The loft door swings open and Rick stands to greet his daughter, wraps her up in a bear hug that makes her groan loudly and wriggle to get free. Alexis catches her little brother when Mal charges at her and swings him right up into the air, scatters his face with kisses.

"Hello there, Marlow." Alexis grins at her brother and Rick hovers for a moment even as the two of them move further into the loft, choked up at the sight of his two beautiful children. He's blessed, and he needs to try harder to remember that when things with Kate get rough.

They settle down on the couch, his kids, and Marlow giggles and squirms as Alexis fishes the television remote from between the couch cushions and scrolls through the DVR until she finds some movie Kate must have recorded for Mal to watch.

Rick grabs snacks and blankets and joins his kids on the sofa for the movie, both of them burrowing into him and snuggling close. Time passes quickly, without their notice, and as the credits roll Rick checks his cell phone and is startled to find that it's ten to five already.

Kate should have been home twenty minutes ago. Panic lurches in his stomach and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, closes his eyes. It's not the same.

Only seven weeks since her accident; he can't go through this again. Can't lose her again. Dislodging himself from the all-over affection of his children, Rick heads for his office and closes the door carefully, dials his wife as he paces next to the window.

She picks up on the fourth ring, hassled and maybe even a little out of breath. "Beckett."

"Kate, thank god, you're alright." He gasps, collapsing into the couch beneath the window. Pressing his cheek to the glass, he stares out at the city and tries not to drop his phone as the thick rush of relief makes him tremble.

There's a sigh across the line, but he knows it isn't him that she's annoyed with. Just. . .frustrated with the case. With whatever it is that's holding her up. "Yeah, I'm fine." A pregnant pause, and then she speaks again. "Listen, Castle. . .I don't think I'm gonna make it to the preschool tour tonight. The case is _crazy_, and-"

"Did you even try." He cuts her off, surprising even himself with the steel in his voice. "Did you even _ask_ the boys if they could cover for you or did you just decide that the case is more important than your family, than our _son_."

He's yelling, by the end of his sentence, and through the bookshelf walls he sees his daughter take Marlow and head upstairs, protecting the boy from having to witness Rick's anger.

"Castle, this is my job. You know how important it is." Kate says quietly, but there's no apology there. "And I'm still figuring out how to balance family and work. This is new for me, Rick; it isn't easy."

"Like hell it isn't." He finds himself growling, shoving a hand through his hair hard enough to make him wince. "You're managing just fine with the fun parts. With pretty much everything, in fact, except being my partner."

"That's not fair." Kate says. There's a sound like a door closing and he imagines she's shut herself away in the break room to hash this out with him. "I'm doing my best. I've only known this is my life for seven weeks. Only known Mal for that long."

Rick sighs, his free hand coming to cover his eyes. "I know you don't remember him, but you're still his mother and you still have to take some responsibility."

His voice is quieter now, but all the more deadly for it. Ice cold and measured, and Kate gives it right back to him when she replies. "I have responsibilities here too, Castle. My job _matters_. I can't just toss the case aside."

He needs to hang up the phone and calm down. He needs to not be yelling at her. It's completely unfair to just unleash the anger that has been bubbling inside him since Kate's accident. Anger at the universe for doing this to them _again_, trying to rip them apart, and he absolutely shouldn't be yelling at her. But he's started now, and he can't seem to stop.

"You know I could have gotten him into preschool weeks ago? But I waited, because I thought you would want to have a say in where he ended up. I thought you would care about our child's future."

"Rick-"

"You know what, Kate? Forget it. I'll figure it out by myself. Good luck with the case." He says, and swipes his finger across the screen to end the call.

Shaking hard with a cocktail of rage and guilt, Rick stalks through the living room to the bottom of the staircase and calls up to his daughter. "Alexis, I'm going to the meeting. I'll text you when I know what's happening."

"Okay." His little girl calls back down to him and he yanks open the door of the loft and steps through. It takes everything he has not to slam it on his way out.

* * *

Kate creeps inside the loft, shame heavy on her shoulders, and sheds her coat by the door. All evening, her husband's words have been circling around and around in her head. And, in that wonderfully ironic way the world has, she has been completely useless at work entirely because she can't stop thinking about the spit of rage in his voice.

She's been waiting for this; Doctor Burke even told her to expect an outburst from her husband at some point. That he had a lot of anger about the situation and he wouldn't be able to hold it in forever. Even so, she feels sick with guilt and terror both.

He's been so patient with her, so willing to wait. Has stuck by her side even when she woke up not even knowing him, let alone loving him the way a wife ought to. But what if this is his tipping point?

Padding through to their bedroom, Kate changes quickly and slides underneath the sheets. Rick has his back to her, his body a great immovable thing, but she knows he's not asleep. She waits a moment, and then she reaches out and touches her palm to the line of his shoulder blade, so stark even through his shirt.

"Rick, I'm so sorry." Her voice cracks, and she doesn't bother trying to hide it. "Please don't leave me."

He rolls over at that and turns on the lamp on the nightstand, supporting his weight on his elbows and frowning at her where she lies next to him, her body scrunched up tight. "What are you talking about? Why would I leave?"

"We fought. I hurt you." Kate whispers, shame making her voice like a shadow of how it was earlier at the precinct when she had their killer in the box, was tearing into him. "I should have stepped back from the case. You and Marlow are so important. The most important things in my life."

His face opens up in surprise then and he stares at her, slack-jawed. "I'm important to you?"

"Of course. You're my husband. And an amazing man." Kate manages a smile, somehow, and the relief when Rick returns it is like a hit straight to the chest. "I hate fighting with you. I hate hurting you."

"Hey, come here." He murmurs, and then he wraps an arm at her shoulders and draws her against him for a sideways hug. He presses a kiss to the side of her head, his fingers warm at the bare skin of her bicep. "It's okay. Yes, you hurt me. And I've hurt you, too. It happens. We get over it."

She nods, swallowing back the stupid clog of emotion. "Okay."

"Kate. . .you were really worried that I might leave?" He asks, so very gently. His voice is laced with disbelief, too, as if he can't imagine how she could be so foolish.

She doesn't know how to even begin explaining that the fear has been nibbling away at the base of her skull almost since she woke up in the hospital. Even when she didn't know him at all she had been worried that he'd leave her floundering, alone in this strange new world.

"It was. . .a bad fight, Rick. Pretty brutal." Mostly on his part, but she doesn't say that. Doesn't see the point in making him hurt over it.

He chuckles, kisses her _again_ and Kate's heart leaps in her chest. His mouth isn't even making contact with her skin, only the curling mass of her hair, but still she feels giddy and a little bit like liquid. "Kate, we fight. Before we got together, even, we had some awful fights. But as much as you might have hurt me, nothing hurts as much as being without you. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay." She smiles, a little sheepish. Adrenaline recedes in waves and Kate lets herself relax against him, her whole body going limp. "How was the school?"

"Oh - amazing!" Rick grins, shifting them both around in the bed and clicking off the lamp again, plunging them into darkness. "The security is really good, the staff seem excellent. And there are so many activities and things for him to be doing. I think he'll love it there."

"Did you ask them if they have spaces?"

"I said I would pay double the fee and make a generous donation to the school and they said they're sure they can squeeze him in somewhere." Rick chuckles, his palm moving from her bicep to the curve of her waist instead.

There's still some awkwardness, neither of them quite ready to let go of the sting of the words exchanged over the phone earlier. But everywhere they touch, there's forgiveness too. "So this is the one?"

"I told them it seemed fantastic, but that I would want my wife to see it too before we make any final decisions."

"It does matter to me, you know." Kate says, so quietly that for a moment she thinks he hasn't heard. He makes a soft noise of recognition and she closes her eyes even in the darkness, thinks through her words before she opens her mouth. "I guess I threw myself into the case today because I know I'm good at that. And I'm so scared of failing him. Letting both of you down."

"You won't fail him, Kate." Rick assures her, hissing when her feet accidentally brush his underneath the sheets. They're cold - her hands are too, always - and the shock of her touch has him wincing and grumbling into her ear.

"And you?"

"Not me either. It's only been two months. Every day, I'm amazed by how much of yourself you're willing to share with me. You're so different to the woman I first met." He sounds almost in awe of her and it makes her blush, half wanting to roll over just in case he somehow sees.

"You make it easy." Kate shrugs, gathering the courage to rest her palm against his chest. He goes still when she touches him, fingers spread wide over his chest, and for a moment she thinks maybe she's pushed him too far.

And then, so slowly, Rick's hand comes up and settles over hers, holding her in place. There are several long beats of silence, each of them hyperaware of the progress their fight seems to have nudged them towards but not daring to put words to it.

Somewhere above her head, she hears him swallow and she goes still, waits for him to speak. "I really thought I lost you. That I'd never get my wife back."

"You won't lose me." She assures him, a little startled herself by how desperately she means it. When the accident first happened there were moments when she thought _I can't do this_, when she wanted to run into her daddy's arms like a terrified child.

But now. . .now she can't imagine walking away. Can't imagine going back to how she used to be, closed off and so lonely. Rick Castle - her life with him - was a surprise, that's for sure. Something she never would have guessed for herself, way back in 2008.

No. She wouldn't have imagined a life like this, all that time ago. Didn't think it was possible for poor, damaged Katherine Beckett to bloom and flourish and not just survive but _live_. How surprised she has been to find that this is her reality.

And oh, how good it is too.


	14. Chapter 14

**Jane Doe**

* * *

Crouching down next to the body of their latest unfortunate victim, Kate glances up and meets the eyes of her best friend, offers Lanie a smile in greeting. "Hey."

"Hey, honey." Lanie grins right back, waiting for Kate to snap on a pair of sterile blue gloves before she peels back the top of their victim's shirt to show Beckett the rippling discolouration circling the woman's neck, the so-familiar ligature marks.

She listens to the information that Lanie has managed to collect so far and then stands up, feeling a twinge of protest in her knees. After two months, it still takes her by surprise sometimes to notice the signs of ageing in her body. Things she wasn't expecting when she woke up thinking she was twenty eight years old. Shuddering, Kate pushes back the thought that she's turning forty next year and turns to find her boys.

Orchestrating them is easy, her team a well-oiled machine, and before too long Kate is ready to head back to the precinct to meet their victim's family, easily contacted thanks to the ID in the woman's pocket. Beckett tugs off her gloves and drops them into a trashcan, turning back at the sound of Lanie calling her name.

"What's up?"

"We still on for girls' day this weekend?" The medical examiner asks, signing off on a clipboard that she hands back to one of the CSU technicians working the scene.

Letting her happiness overtake her face and split the seam of her mouth into a ripe grin, Kate takes a couple steps closer and squeezes her best friend's arm. Lanie had texted her last week to tell her about their plans, something they do every so often.

As has come to be routine now, Kate had curled up next to her husband on the couch and asked him to fill in the details, curious to see just where these things come from. He said that Kate and Lanie and Jenny get together, along with the Ryan girls and Alexis if she can make it, once every few months or so. That at the same time, Rick and the boys at the precinct go do something fun with Mal.

It sounds wonderful. Kate has had her boys at the precinct for so long, and now her husband and son too, but it's so nice to have sisters and nieces, to get to do the girly things. "I can't wait. I'll pick you up on my way to Jenny's place?"

"Sure." Lanie nods, and then someone from CSU is calling for her and she hurries off to deal with whatever it is that they want. Smiling to herself, Kate heads back for her car and slides into the driver's seat, pushing the key into the ignition but not turning it yet.

Lanie has reminded her of what she's been meaning to do for the past couple days. Tugging her cell phone free from her pocket, Kate scrolls through the list of her contacts until she finds Alexis' number and dials. After a couple of rings, Castle's daughter picks up.

"Kate, hey."

"Hi Alexis." Kate smiles into the phone, glad that she parked around the corner from the crime scene and so the technicians and uniforms that flood the scene like ants around something sweet can't see how absolutely ridiculous she must look. "How are you?"

According to Rick, Kate and Alexis aren't exactly super close. Alexis had already left for college by the time Kate moved in, so although they've spent some time living together in the summers and things, the two women have never really fostered a mother-daughter relationship.

They're friends, apparently. Alexis is a sweet girl, a wonderful sister to Marlow and so lovely and welcoming towards Kate. There have been rough patches; Rick has told her of the period of eighteen months or so when Alexis was filled up with dislike for Kate, having watched her father following the detective around like a puppy, cringing and whining but staying close at her heel all the same.

"I'm good, thanks. You?" The girl is so light, free-spirited and innocent and Kate is glad to have her, too.

Carding her fingers through her hair, Kate fiddles with the strap of her father's watch at her wrist, not wanting to dive right in to the question she has for Rick's daughter. She does need to head back to the precinct though, really. "I'm great, thank you. Listen, Alexis. I was just calling to see if you wanted to join us for girls' day on Sunday? We're gonna go get manicures I think."

"Give me one second, let me check my calendar." Alexis says. There's a rustling sound in the background, footsteps, and then her voice comes back across the line. "I'm not doing anything, so sure! I"d love to."

"Great! I'll text you the details."

"Thanks, Kate. I'll let you get back to work. See you Sunday." Alexis says, her voice rich with genuine gratitude. Kate needs to remember that it's easy to make Alexis happy. All she really wants is to be included, and for her father to be happy too. And Kate can do that, can make both of those things happen.

"See you." Kate smiles, and hangs up the call. She's really looking forward to it, taking some time out to pamper herself a little bit and have fun with the wonderful women in her life. Martha apparently doesn't join them, usually busy with her acting school, so Kate resolves to arrange something else with her mother in law. Perhaps dinner, or maybe they could go and see a show?

Anyway, first, she needs to solve this case.

* * *

At dinner on Saturday night Marlow curls up into his mother's lap like a kitten, purring in delight when Kate's hand smoothes up and down his spine. Mal ate a couple hours earlier and is already squeaky clean and in his footie pyjamas, ready for bed.

It's a little awkward for Kate, having to eat with one hand so she can keep an arm around their son to stop him from toppling right out of her grasp, but she's managing okay. Even so, Rick feels bad and forces himself to slow down, keep pace with her.

Sipping at her wine, Kate ruffles their son's hair, the damp curls slowly air drying, and shifts a little in her seat until she's facing him. When she got home she changed into yoga pants and one of his old t shirts and she looks so deliciously relaxed like this. He's hoping that after dinner they can have a family snuggle pile on the couch before it's time for Mal to go to bed.

"So what do you have planned tomorrow with Tío and Uncle Kevin and Daddy?" Kate murmurs to their son, but she's looking at Rick in question. Mal is pretty drowsy anyway, his eyes fluttering closed no matter how hard he fights to keep them open and Kate soothes their son with the circle of her thumb at his cheek.

"I thought we might go to the zoo." He shrugs, reaching out to sette his palm around the curve of their little boy's skull. It has a drugging effect on him most of the time and before too long Marlow is fast asleep, still curled up small in his mother's lap.

Kate takes a last mouthful of her dinner and sets her fork down, freeing up her hand so she can wrap both arms around their son and cradle him like a newborn. She stands up with him nestled close against her chest, mouth open, and she starts for the staircase.

He doesn't want her to disappear upstairs just yet. Rick touches two fingers to her wrist to halt her, gives her a sheepish look when she turns back to him and lifts an eyebrow. "I kinda want to snuggle on the couch with you two. Is that okay?"

"Oh." She smiles, ducking her head as if to hide it from him. "Sure, yes. Come on then."

Rick loads their plates and glasses and cutlery all into the dishwasher and heads to join his wife and son on the couch. It takes a little bit of manoeuvring, but eventually he gets an arm around Kate's shoulders to draw her in close against him and she shifts Marlow until their son is draped over both of their chests.

"He's excited for boys' day." Kate says softly, so as not to wake their little boy. "Kept telling me how grown up he is while you were making dinner."

Rick huffs a laugh and reaches down with the arm not around his wife to rest his palm between the tiny wings of Marlow's shoulder blades. "I just hope he won't get too over-excited. When he has the attention of me and Sito and Ryan he can get a little crazy."

"Well can we blame him, with you for a daddy?" Kate murmurs, leaning sideways until her cheek rests against his shoulder. Over the past few weeks, as he's been able to relax around her, everything hasn't felt quite so cataclysmic. It's meant that he's stopped being afraid to have fun in front of her. A couple weeks back they played an epic game of laser tag, and for a handful of hours he was able to forget that things aren't exactly the way they always have been.

They've teased each other, some. Tentative but getting there. And he's given her crazy theories to 'help' with her cases at the precinct, just the way he always has done. The childish side of him was the part most abhorred by straight-laced Detective Beckett when they met, and he has been so fearful about letting her see it this time around.

He should have known better. Probably shouldn't have been so surprised each time she's laughed softly and then joined in. "Oh don't pretend like you're so serious. I've seen you in your Nebula 9 costume."

"You _have_?" She gasps, half-sitting up so she can look at him. "God, that's so embarrassing."

Grinning, Rick cups her cheek in his palm just because he _can_. Because they're getting there, finally. "Don't be embarrassed. You're adorable." She blushes and he waits a beat, holds on until she thinks he won't say anything more before he finishes his sentence. "And so sexy. . .once you took off the Creaver mask."

* * *

Trying to cuddle an eighteen month old while simultaneously attempting to avoid smudging her freshly polished nails is perhaps not the easiest task Kate has ever undertaken. Lulu is, as always, clingy, and once the little girl had her nails painted the same sparkly purple as her big sister she had climbed right up into Kate's arms, regardless of the poor woman trying to do Kate's own manicure.

Sarah is sitting prim and proper in one of the salon chairs in between her mother and Lanie, with Kate at Jenny's other side and Alexis next to Lanie. Everyone has gotten a manicure, even the two tiny girls, and they both look so delighted to be included in the festivities that the adults can't help but smile.

One of the nail technicians comes over to check on Sarah and Lulu and declares their manicures dry, asks them if they'd like to come with her to get their toenails painted too.

"Mommy?" Sarah looks to Jenny and gets a nod of approval from her mother, slips down from her seat to take Lucy's hand and help her sister climb down from their aunt's lap. The girls scurry off, hand in hand to the other side of the salon, where the adults can still see them.

Only now, they can talk without little ears overhearing. And there's something that's been bugging Kate almost from the moment she found out about her son. "Can I ask you guys something?"

"Sure honey." Lanie says, turning her hand over to let the nail technician massage the flesh of her palm.

Swallowing hard, Kate takes a deep breath and tries to steel herself for this. It's a horrible thing to have to ask, hence the reason why she hasn't just asked Rick before now. "What was pregnancy like for me?"

"Oh, Kate, you were radiant." Jenny says immediately, and then blushes as if embarrassed by her own outburst. Kate has only met Jenny a handful of times, but each time she sees just how perfect the sweet, gentle woman is for Kevin Ryan.

It's good to hear that pregnancy suited her, it really is, but her heart aches with a desperate yearning to remember it. "I was?"

"You had the glow. The one you always read about in pregnancy books." Lanie laughs, shaking her head. "In the beginning you struggled with morning sickness, but it settled down in your second trimester and then you just. . .loved it. You were so excited to be pregnant, to be having a baby with Castle."

"No one was as excited as Dad, though." Alexis grins, joining in with the conversation at last. Kate had worried that this topic might be a little uncomfortable for the girl, but she seems okay so far. Excited, even, to be able to contribute. "He bought so many books, and then he would just come out with random facts at the dinner table. It drove you crazy."

"Oh, yes!" Jenny laughs, clasping her hands together and pressing them against her breastbone. "One time the six of us were at a restaurant and Rick announced that your baby could hear, and you said that was a shame because your child was about to hear the sound of their father's murder."

Kate blushes and stares at her feet, wanting to bury her face in her hands. It's so _mean_, but it does sound like something she would say. Especially with pregnancy hormones running rampant.

Lanie must notice her guilt because she carries on, her voice soft and entirely unlike her own. "That was rare, Kate. Most of the time you two were just disgustingly excited. He was there for every step of the journey and you let him be."

"I wish I could remember it." Kate says quietly, desperately wanting to run her hands through her hair. Her nail polish is still wet though, so she can't do more than splay her fingers at her thighs and suck in a breath through her teeth. "He's beautiful, and I'm loving getting to be his mom. But I don't know what it was like to hold him as a newborn. I don't remember the night feeds and the colic and his first smile, first steps, first words."

And then she's crying, stupid fat tears that she can't even try to keep at bay or wipe away because her nails are wet, damn it. Lanie is the first to move, coming right to Kate's side and gathering her up into a hug. "I know honey. It's alright. Let it out."

She does, sobbing against her best friend, mourning her lost memories. Grieving for her son's babyhood, the things of him that she's never going to get back. They've told her as much. Burke and the other doctors. Said that at this point, they don't have much hope for her reclaiming anything.

A gentle hand at her shoulder startles her a little and she peels away from Lanie to glance up at Alexis. It's embarrassing, crying like this here. The nail technicians that had been working with them have at least made themselves scarce, but falling apart like this in front of Rick's daughter and Ryan's wife is just humiliating.

"Kate." Alexis says carefully, looking a little unsure of herself but somehow completely steadfast all at the same time. "You can't have that time back. But what about all the memories, all of the important moments for the rest of his life? You get to have those."

"You're right." Kate nods, sniffling a little. Oh jeez, she's a wreck. She needs to just get out of here.

The corner of Alexis' mouth quirks up in a smile and she sinks into the chair next to Kate, reaches out to take Beckett's hand. "And you've got all of us. We can help fill in the gaps. And Dad's a _writer_. He can describe to you exactly what it felt like when Marlow was born, what those first few weeks were like. Just ask him."

"Kate, I've been pregnant twice. So if there are more details that you want to have then I'll do my best to describe them for you. And when you were pregnant with Marlow you came to me a lot for advice, so I can help with details that are personal to you as well."

"Thank you, Jenny." Kate manages a smile, wiping at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. "Thank you all. I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

Lanie snorts and shoves at her shoulder, almost glaring. "You have got to be kidding me. You've been so strong through all of this, Beckett. It's actually kind of intimidating for the rest of us mere mortals."

"Shut up." She huffs, but it does make her feel just a little better.

Alexis gasps and stands up, clasping her hands together and grinning wide. "I just remembered- can we cut this short and head back to the loft?"

Everyone nods their agreement and Kate tracks down one of the women who works here, explains that they're going to head home and foots the bill for everyone's manicures. That receives general outcry from the others but she shrugs it off, determined to pay. After all the crying she did just now? They deserve it.

Jenny straps the girls into their carseats and Alexis slides into the passenger side of the car when her cousins clamour for her, twisting around in the seat to pull faces that have them erupting into laughter. A little way further down the street Lanie slides into the passenger side of Kate's car and she climbs into the driver's seat, pulling out into the flow of traffic and heading for home.

They spill through the front door of the loft, the two tiny girls running ahead and calling out for Marlow to come play with them. Kate stoops down with her nieces, smoothes a hand over each of their wavy blonde heads. "Mal isn't here right now; he's out with his daddy and your daddy and Tío. But you can play with any of his toys that you want to from the box just there."

That earns her a grin and a giggle from each of her nieces and they busy themselves with Mal's train set. Even Lucy is momentarily distracted from her constant need for either Alexis or Kate to be holding her. When Kate straightens up, Castle's daughter directs her to sit with Jenny and Lanie on the couch and disappears at a jog up the stairs, coming back a moment later with a book clutched in her hands.

"I can't believe dad hasn't showed this to you yet. Maybe he forgot about it." She shrugs, squeezing herself into the gap between Kate and Lanie on the couch. She opens the book on the first page and Kate gasps, reaching out to brush her fingers over the sonogram picture.

"Is this. . .?"

"Marlow's baby book. You and dad did it together. I think it was his idea, but you got more into it as you went along."

Kate presses a trembling hand to her mouth and glances up at Alexis, a little startled to find her eyes filling with tears again. Fingers splayed over the book to hold it safely in place, Kate wraps her free arm around Alexis' shoulders and draws her in for a hug, dusting a kiss to the girl's cheek. "Thank you so much."

"That's okay. How about we go fix an early dinner for everyone? Give you some time to look." Alexis says, glancing pointedly at Jenny and Lanie.

The two of them follow Rick's daughter to the kitchen and Kate listens a moment to the sounds of them rummaging through cupboards and the refrigerator before she pushes it back. All of it, everything, becomes second to the history of her son's life held in the book in her lap.

Drawing a deep breath, Kate turns the page and lets herself get lost in the story of her little boy and his journey into existence. Rick's involvement in the book is clear; it's descriptive, a wealth of information that goes far beyond the simple details the book asks for.

Enough here that Kate isn't just learning the physical changes that happened to her body during the pregnancy, the cravings she had and the circumference of her baby bump each week. She's also learning the emotions, seeing what it was like to carry her child, how it felt. And how Rick felt, too.

It's amazing, truly. Drawing her knees up underneath herself, Kate settles down and reads the whole thing twice over, absorbing all of it. She's roused by the bussle of the table being laid and food set out and she closes the book but wraps both arms around it, not quite willing to part with it just yet.

Maybe later tonight, she'll be able to gather the courage to ask her husband for the story of Marlow's life. The things that only he, as their son's father, will know. Kate sets the book down underneath her chair so it doesn't get ruined by food and sits at the table, tucking in to the food.

Fifteen minutes or so into their meal, the boys come tumbling through the front door and then there's more noise and life and excitement, plates being fetched and more placemats laid out so the boys can join them to eat. Kate feels very still, most of her lost inside of the past and the memories she's desperately scrabbling to recreate.

Rick must be able to tell that she's been crying, because he fights his way through the hullabaloo to get to her and settles in the chair next to hers, leaning in until he gets his mouth against her ear. "Everything alright?"

"I'm very glad you're a writer." She murmurs back, the rest of their family oblivious to the private, tender moment Kate and her husband are carving out for themselves. "I looked at Mal's baby book, today. All that information you included, your descriptions. . .it's amazing. Thank you."

"Oh God, Kate, I'm so sorry. With everything that's happened I totally forgot about that." He seems grief-stricken and Kate drops her hand to curve over his knee, her thumb circling.

"Don't worry about it. You have the best words, Rick. Will you give me more of them later? Will you tell me the rest of our son's story?" She asks of him, feeling stupidly shy.

His face breaks open with light as if splashed against a surface of still water, letting her see all the way down into the depths of him, and his hand comes to cover hers at his knee. "Of course I will. Of course. Anything. Anything at all."

And that's enough. For now. Time to rejoin the rest of their family.

* * *

**A/N:** I want to take this opportunity to say thank you. I received a less-than-favourable guest review for the previous chapter, and so many of you leapt to the defence of me and this story. I'm honoured, and flattered, and so very grateful to all those of you who are so adamant in your love for this fic. It's such a delight to write it, knowing that it makes so many people so happy. So truly, thank you for your support. It means more than I can say.


	15. Chapter 15

**Jane Doe**

* * *

It's time.

She's ready.

Yesterday, Rick brought her breakfast in bed. A tray with the paper and coffee and waffles drowning underneath piles of fresh fruit and a graceful, long-stemmed rose in a slender vase. He had set the whole thing down on the nightstand and settled next to her hip, skimming his fingertips along the ridge of her clavicle to rouse her.

When her eyes had blinked open she had seen him backlit by the tentative morning light, sleepy and rumpled and adorable. "Mal is fed and dressed and playing in his room. So you can take as long as you need. Relax with your breakfast."

It had been so hard, astonishingly difficult, not to just open her mouth and say it. Instead she'd smiled at him, wide and untrammelled by any self-consciousness she might have been harbouring up until that moment.

And now she's certain. It's time. And she will get it right.

At the precinct in the middle of a case that is so slow, so terribly dull that she swears she can actually _feel_ her brain cells dying one by one, Kate sneaks off to the break room and tugs her cell phone free from her pocket, perches on one of the high stools while she dials and waits.

"Hello?"

"Martha. Hi." Kate says back, joy in her voice. She's been giddy with it since she figured out exactly how this will go, and now she finds herself drumming her heels against the bar of the stool she's sitting on. "Can you talk?"

"Of course Katherine, darling." Rick's mother says and Kate hears her own delight reflected back at her as if from the surface of a pond, rippling and a little distorted by Martha's confusion.

Taking a deep breath, Kate places the hand not cradling her phone palm down on the table top and spreads her fingers wide. Partly to stop her nervous trembling, but also so she can admire her ring. "I was wondering if you could have Marlow tomorrow. I'm planning. . .something, for Rick, and I need the day with him."

"Oh, honey, I'd love to." Martha says brightly, and in the background Kate hears the clamour of the ever-bustling acting school. But tomorrow Martha isn't working; Kate checked on the schedule planner Rick has in his office that details the activities of their extended family.

"Are you sure? If you have plans I could ask my dad." Her father is actually out of town right now, on the fishing expedition, but Martha doesn't need to know that. Kate doesn't ever want to guilt Marlow's grandmother into taking care of him.

She gets a huff of breath and then Martha's voice, further away sounding as she calls out to someone. One of her students maybe, or a fellow teacher. And then she's back, sounding a little breathless but certain. "I'm sure, Katherine. My pleasure. What time would you like me to be at the loft?"

"Oh, well, I was actually hoping Rick would come to the precinct with me. So could you come over at about eight?" Usually Kate gets to work for around that time, but there's really no reason for it. And if her husband is going to join her they can head in to the precinct a little later than normal.

"That sounds just fine. I'll see you tomorrow, darling." Martha says and then there's a crash in the background and Rick's mother ends their call. Shaking her head at the older woman's huff of exasperation, Kate laughs softly to herself before she clambers down from the stool and heads back to the tumult of the bullpen.

* * *

Richard Castle is deeply suspicious.

His wife is. . .giggly. Since she got home from the precinct this evening - earlier than usual, but she had no response to his lifted eyebrow - Kate has been smiling and laughing and dancing in the kitchen with him and their son. He doesn't understand it, but he's not about to complain.

He loves this woman, adores her in a kind of desperate way that makes him want to write poetry and proclaim it from the rooftops for the whole world to see, rip out his still-beating heart and search for her name carved there. If Kate is going to bubble over with delight, he's sure as hell going to join her.

They clear the table after dinner together and he's about to head for the living room where Mal seems to be concocting some sort of game that involves leaping from one end of the couch to the other when Kate's arms slide low down around his waist and her thighs kiss his.

Feeling his whole body go still, Rick stares down at her and concentrates as hard as he possibly can on not doing something utterly ridiculous like kissing her. "Kate?"

"Tomorrow, your mother is taking care of Mal all day." Rick opens his mouth to protest that or question it or _something_, but she's ploughing on right through him. "And _you_. . .are coming to the precinct with me."

"I am?" He gasps, feeling the corners of his mouth unravelling into a grin already. It's been such a very long time since he's gotten to spend the day at the precinct with the woman he loves, making her laugh with crazy theories and providing an endless supply of coffee and sneaking careful touches when he thinks no one is looking.

Kate shrugs, chewing on her bottom lip and gazing up at him from beneath the thick fringe of her eyelashes. God, he adores barefoot Kate. That was one of the first, previously unknown facets of her that he fell in love with when they initially got together. Her long and slender toes, the soft skin, the way it makes her slot so neatly underneath his chin.

"Well, when he starts preschool in January you're gonna be back there a couple days a week, right? So I figured we both should start getting used to it."

"Right. Good idea." He grins, leaning in to brush his mouth at her forehead just because he can and he wants to and her body is still so close against his, their skins flush together. And he's going to work with her tomorrow. He doesn't think he could possibly be more excited.

The last time he felt like this was probably when Marlow called him daddy for the first time. Kate is still smiling, her fingers warm and soothing as they drift up and down the chiseled edges of his spine. "I can't wait."

"You have no idea what it'll be like." He chuckles, teasing her. Immediately, he regrets bringing up her memory loss, but she doesn't seem at all bothered by it.

She laughs along with him, rolling her eyes at herself before she sobers and regards him with so much tenderness he thinks he could cry. Rick Castle is no idiot; he knows this look. But he's not saying anything, won't risk jeopardising the fragile wonder between the two of them.

"I can't imagine that spending the whole day with you could be bad." His wife shrugs, a smile flirting at the corners of her mouth.

Rick opens his mouth to say something, maybe warn her of just how annoying he can get at the precinct, but their son beats him to it.

"Mommy, watch me!" Marlow calls out and they both turn in time to see him launch himself from the arm of the couch into the belly of the armchair close by. Heart lurching down into his stomach, Rick strides through to the living room with Kate right behind him.

She reaches for their son and sits him down on the couch, kneels on the floor in front of him. "Mal, do not ever do that again."

"But Mommy." His little face crinkles up and he pouts, folding his arms. "It was so fun. I flied."

"You flew." Rick corrects on autopilot, sitting next to his son on the couch and settling a hand at his wife's shoulder. They're a team, in raising their son especially, and it has always been important to both of them to present a united front for Marlow. "Mal, my man, can you think why Mommy and I don't want you to do that again?"

"I get in trouble?" Their son frowns, looking to his mother for guidance.

Kate dusts a kiss to his knee, covered with the soft fabric of his pyjama pants, and cups his foot in her palm. "No baby. You could fall and get really hurt, and that wouldn't be any fun, would it?"

"I get hurt?" Mal murmurs, leaning sideways into Rick until his little cheek gets smushed against his father's bicep.

"That's right, sweet boy. And that would make you and me and Daddy all very sad. So if you want to do a fun game like that, you make sure that either me or Daddy is watching and ready to catch you. Okay?"

"Okay Mommy." Marlow grins down at her, impish, and Kate pushes up from the floor to gather their son in her arms and shower him with kisses. He wriggles and squirms and laughs, gleeful, and Rick intervenes with a large hand splayed at the boy's back to calm him.

"You are our most precious thing." Kate whispers to their baby boy, soothing him with her voice and the stroke of her hands at his cheek, his chubby little arm.

It still chokes Rick up, pathetically so, seeing Kate like this. When he first met her all those years ago, he had no idea how good it would grow to be between them. How they would become a team, first at the precinct, then in their marriage and then in the raising of this tiny, perfect little boy they made together.

Kate watches him from over top of Marlow's head and from the look on her face he wonders if she's feeling something similar. Not the same, of course. She was robbed of their journey, only gets to enjoy the destination, but she must get it.

Suddenly, excitement bubbles up inside of him again at the prospect of going to the precinct tomorrow. He's missed it terribly, the boys and his chair and Gates, even.

But mostly Kate. Always the most important. Kate.

* * *

By her usual standards, it's a slow day. A boring day, even, although Kate so loves the job that she can usually find something to occupy herself with, a cold case to go over again. Today though, her husband is here.

His chair has been beside her desk since she came back to work after her accident. In fact, she had had to ask Ryan why exactly there's an empty chair next to her, invading her workspace. Kevin had grinned and said that it's been there for so long it's become a permanent fixture.

And now Rick is filling it. The case she was working on yesterday is still going, but any progress they've made has been slow and torturous, as if they're wading through molasses in their search for some answers. Yesterday, it felt abysmal, as if the case and the day itself would never end.

But Rick is here. Offering her that smile that scrunches up around the corners of his eyes. Relaying her with updates that his mother texts about her day with Marlow. He even filled up the little bowl on her desk with Skittles, keeps feeding them to her when he thinks the boys aren't looking.

She's done for, really. If yesterday was bad, today is just ridiculous. She can't focus on the case at all, keeps getting distracted by just how good he looks sitting there in his chair with his button down shirt clinging tight to his biceps, the solid expanse of his chest.

Somehow, already, it's getting close to six. Kate has absolutely no idea what she's done with the day. From the murder board next to her desk it's obvious they haven't made a lot of progress with the case. Really all she's done is twist herself in knots, trying to work up the courage to say what she needs to say.

"Hey, Castle?" She says quietly, snagging his attention away from the notepad in his lap. "You've been really useful, today."

He scoffs, shaking his head, but it's true. Rick is a good reader, fast but meticulous, and so for much of the day he's been looking over the statements from the canvas the boys did in the area around their crime scene. He's picked up on things that Kate might not have done, especially in her current state of distraction.

"I mean it. So I was thinking. . .I guess the least I could do is buy you a burger." She feels so ridiculous, bashful even, and she can hardly look at him.

Her heart is pounding, her palms are clammy and she feels like she might actually topple right out of her chair and onto the ground at his feet. As she watches, something comes alight in his face and he grins wide, reaching out to tangle his fingers together with hers. "I accept."

"Great!" She beams, standing up and forcing her knees to lock. Rick follows suit and lifts her coat from the back of her chair, helps her into it. When his fingers skim along the back of her neck to free her hair from her collar she feels dizzy, steadying herself with a hand at his bicep.

Thankfully, he takes a few steps back from her and slides into his own coat, gives her a chance to fasten the buttons of her trench and wind the length of her scarf around her neck. For a moment she considers tugging on her gloves but she decides against it, leaving them in her pocket.

"I'll see you tomorrow, guys." She calls out to Ryan and Esposito and the two of them wave their goodbyes, lost in some computer game. They're waiting on the lab reports, but those won't be here until the morning, and Kate knows that her leaving will cue the boys to head home as well.

Kate walks with Rick to the elevator and once they're safely inside and away from prying eyes, she slides her hand into the cradle of his and shifts a half-step closer until the heat of his body comes up to meet her. The entire length of her willowy frame is thrumming with energy and awareness; she feels like she's either going to dissolve into giggles or tears.

It's such a disconcerting sensation, like she's lost all control of her limbs, and of course Rick notices. He doesn't comment further than a lifted eyebrow in her direction though, instead choosing to nudge his shoulder into hers and let a grin quirk the corner of his mouth. "So, where are you taking me for this hamburger?"

"Remy's okay with you?" Kate asks, chewing on her lip again. She's stupidly nervous, and really she needs to get a grip because her husband is a smart man, a sweet, goofy man, and he's going to figure it out if she can't just get a handle on her emotions.

"Sounds great."

Out on the street the air is cold, already starting to roll over into wintertime and Kate shivers. Halting them, Rick turns to face her and cups her face in his palms, sending warmth cascading through her instantly and then she's shivering harder but for an entirely different reason. "Are you cold?"

"I'm okay." She smiles at him, reaching up to card her fingers through his hair. They're getting stiff with the cold already, so when Rick drops his hands from her face to tangle up with hers she slides them both, hers and his, into the toasty warm depths of his coat pocket.

Her free hand goes into her own pocket and then she's fine, the sharp bite in the air just making her feel flushed and alive and delighted by absolutely everything. Remy's is only a couple blocks away and they walk together, long legs keeping stride easily with one another.

When they get inside the restaurant they find a booth in the back and nestle in close, both of them on the same side, sharing the bench seat. They shrug their way out of coats and scarves and pile everything on the seat opposite them, give their order to the skinny, lanky looking boy who introduces himself as their server.

Dinner passes quickly, most likely because Kate is so horrifically nervous about what comes next. They talk quietly, heads bent together and laughter flooding into the spaces between them. Once they're done eating and they've paid the bill, Kate slips her hand into Castle's again and grins up at him, leading him with her towards the door of the restaurant.

Out on the street, Rick looks to her for some clue as to what to do next and she offers him a shy smile, squeezes his fingers in hers. "Do you mind if we walk for a while?"

"Sure." He says back, his whole face so tender and gentle and Kate doesn't know how much longer she can keep it back. More than anything, she wants to see the look on his face.

They walk aimlessly, pointing out things of interest to each other. Rick weaves stories for the people they pass by and Kate joins in as best she can, managing to surprise him a couple times with the twists she throws in.

They make it to a park, a small section of greenery tucked away next to the meld of concrete and glass that is their city, and Kate tugs him with her along a path and to a bench, guides him down to sit with her. Turning to face him until her knees bump against his, Kate lays her arm along the back of the bench and brushes her fingertips against the sensitive skin at his neck, delighted when his eyes slip closed and he shifts a little closer into her touch.

With his eyes still closed, Rick lays his hand over her thigh and his thumb circles, distracting her enough that the words she had had right there waiting just behind the barrier of her teeth fall away and she can't do more than just breathe.

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?" He says, voice thick with awe and something that might be disbelief.

God, he's so beautiful. "Rick. I love you."

His eyes pop open and he stares at her, fingers suddenly pressing harder into the flesh of her thigh. She can see the pulse jumping erratically in his neck and his jaw goes slack, his other hand trembling until he curls it into a fist and rests it at his knee. "Kate. . .you remember?"

"Oh." She huffs a breath. "No. No, I don't remember. But I love you, Rick. More than I ever could have imagined."

She's startled when a few tears slip free and skid down his cheeks but then he crashes into her, their faces aligned at forehead and nose and she can already taste him, joy and relief and adoration all rolling over her in waves. "Kate. Kate. You love me. God, I never thought I'd hear you say that again."

"I'll say it whenever you like." She laughs, tipping her chin up to catch his mouth. It's brief, just a glance of her lips off of his, but it's the very first time she can remember kissing him where neither of them has felt guilty or bad about it. No. It's just wonderful. "I love you."

And then his mouth is slanting over hers, his tongue slick and hot inside of her mouth and she gasps, fists a hand in the collar of his shirt and palms the back of his head with the other to drag him even closer to her. It feels amazing, better than she possibly could have imagined. The kissing, yes, but also the sheer relief of having said those words out loud to him. It feels good and right, as if her world has finally been set straight again after so long being just slightly off kilter. Rick's hands come to frame her face and he wrenches his mouth away from hers to stare at her, his chest heaving.

"I love you too, by the way. You're gorgeous and extraordinary and my _wife_." He shakes his head in disbelief, and the laugh he lets out is almost childlike in its jubilation. "I thought you'd never be able to love me again."

"No, Rick." Kate soothes, her thumbs brushing over his cheeks, underneath his eyes to erase his tears. Leaning in again, Kate kisses him because it's her new favourite thing in the world and she never wants to stop. "How could I not have fallen for you again? You've been so incredibly good to me."

His mouth is warm underneath hers, his lips soft and gentle and his hands and oh god, she can feel the delicious spirals of desperate need winding up her spine and through her ribs, her whole body tight with how much she wants him.

When Rick pulls back this time he grins at her, a little sheepish, absent-mindedly stroking a fingertip back and forth along her cheekbone. And then he leers, and her heart races, and he tilts his head to look at her intently. "You know, Kate. . .my mother texted me earlier and said she was gonna bring Mal to her place for a sleepover tonight. So the loft is going to be empty."

"Oh really?" She lifts an eyebrow at him, leaning in to drop a burst of a kiss against his mouth before she pulls back and grins, wide enough that her cheeks ache with it. "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

It's a little embarrassing, sure, that Rick's mother seems to have figured out exactly what's going on here. Or at least enough that she knows to give them the loft to themselves for the night. But Kate can't actually seem to care at all.

All she cares about is her husband, and getting his naked body in close proximity to hers as fast as they possibly can. Rick tugs her up from the bench with him and pauses to steal a long and devastating kiss from her mouth, his hand slipping down to palm her ass and drag her hips against his, before he steps back and grabs for her hand again.

"Let's find a cab. Now."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** If you missed it, there's a separate M rated one shot that details the events between the end of chapter fifteen and the beginning of this chapter.

* * *

**Jane Doe**

* * *

Kate Beckett's bare skin is pressed against his. The entire lengths of their bodies are flush, her skin so warm and good, and she presses kisses wherever she can reach. His pecs, the inside of his bicep, up to his shoulder. Everywhere her mouth touches he feels it acutely, replies in kind with the brush of his fingers over her.

He had thought nothing would ever top their first night, the relief and the awe and the jubilation they shared, but he had been wrong. Tonight has been perfect. Shifting a little to get comfortable, Rick looks down at his wife where she is pillowed against him and his heart leaps.

She loves him. "That was. . ." He trails off, absolutely lost for words. It isn't the first time that Kate has rendered him speechless, and it certainly won't be the last, but she huffs a laugh and rolls onto her stomach to look at him. Her chin is hard and pointy at his chest and he winces, nudges her to move.

"Yeah." She laughs, wriggling her body up the length of his until their mouths brush together in a tender kiss. Well, it starts tender, but they are _naked_ after all and after a two month famine he burns with need for her and he can't help but slick his tongue past the seam of her lips. A hand carding through her hair, Rick lifts his hips and delights in the moan that breaks loose from her and tumbles into his mouth.

When he manages to get control of himself, just a little, he pulls back to breathe and Kate rolls off of him to lay on her back by his side instead, both of her arms twining around one of his. "Has it always been this intense between us?"

"Yes." He grins, letting his eyes close, and a stream of memories flick past behind his lids like ticker tape. There are so many images that he doesn't even know where to start. Kate, proud above him or sprawled loose and limp underneath the weight of his body. "Our first night was mind-blowing. After waiting so long, I don't think it could have been anything but incredible. And then it just seemed to keep getting better and better."

"Do you have a top ten?" Kate murmurs, a knee coming up underneath the sheets until she can trace her toes down the length of his shin.

Grinning wide, Rick spreads his hand at the curve of her spine, his fingertips just skimming the top of her ass. "No. Too many amazing times with you. Our wedding night, Kate."

Against him, he feels the silvery line of her shiver and she huffs a breath, nose nudging at his cheek. "What was it like? Our wedding."

"It didn't go exactly to plan." He says gently, his arm tightening to draw her a little closer against him. Yeah. Their wedding - when it eventually happened - was amazing because he got to make Kate Beckett his wife, finally. But before that. . .jeez.

"What happened?" Kate asks, and he feels the hum of awareness just underneath her skin. Sliding into detective mode, and hell if it doesn't make him want her desperately. But this, the story of how they finally made it to being husband and wife, she deserves from him.

Sitting up, Rick waits for Kate to sit too and palms the back of her head to bring her in for a kiss. He lingers, still hardly able to believe that she really loves him again. When he climbs out from the bed, it's only to tug on a fresh pair of boxer shorts from the drawer and find a shirt and underwear for his wife.

He throws them to her and she snags them in midair, smirking at him as she slides her way into the clothes and reaches out a hand to him. He goes willingly, of course, knotting their fingers so their knuckles clash together and slipping back into bed with her.

An arm around her shoulders, they get comfortable and Rick clears his throat, drops his hand to cover her knee underneath the sheets. "We were supposed to get married in May of 2014. But things didn't exactly work out that way."

"Uh huh." Kate murmurs, tipping sideways until her cheek meets his bicep. It reminds him so much of how it was between them in the days leading up to what was supposed to be their dream wedding, the physical contact that neither of them could seem to resist the call of.

"So, three days before we were due to get married, we went to get our marriage licence. And it turned out that we couldn't, because you had been married to someone else and technically, you still were."

"I was _married_?" She chokes out, twisting around to stare at him. He shrugs, glad that at least he can smile about it now. It hadn't bothered him, knowing that Kate had been married previously. How hypocritical would that be? No. What bothered him was how much it seemed to upset her. "To whom?"

Smirking at her, Rick makes his eyebrows dance. "To Rogan O'Leary."

"Oh my god." Kate groans, covering her face with her hands and sighing long and loud. He laughs, curling his fingers at her shoulder to draw her against his chest for a hug. "Rick, I'm so sorry. That must have been awful."

Well, it was. And then it completely became irrelevant, after everything else that happened. "It's okay, love. Don't worry about it now. Anyway, you went to see him to get him to sign the divorce papers, but things just started going wrong from there."

"Like what?" Kate asks, tentative as if she's afraid of what comes next even sitting here in the middle of their happy ending.

Rick hesitates for a moment, trying to figure out the easiest way to say the rest. The way that will hurt her the least. "Our venue and your dress both got ruined. Rogan went missing for a brief time. It looked like we weren't going to have our perfect wedding."

"That sounds awful." She says mournfully, as if grieving for the heartache of their past selves. He offers her a tender smile, as if to cushion the blow of what comes next.

"We managed to rescue as much as we could of our day. We moved everything to the Hamptons. Rogan signed the papers. You wore your mother's dress. You had gone ahead of me to get ready, but when I was on my way to the Hamptons my car was run off of the road. It was found on fire, in a ditch, and you thought for a short time that I had burned to death inside of it."

She gasps, a hand flying up to press against her mouth. Her eyes are wide and she stares at him, her brows furrowing hard until her forehead creases up. "Oh god, Rick."

"Shh, it's okay." He murmurs, circling her wrist with two fingers and drawing her hand slowly away from her mouth, leaning in to replace it with his lips. She hums into their kiss, her whole body seeming to arch upwards, and it kills him to break it off but there's so much more he needs to say. "When they put out the flames there was a body in the car, but Lanie was eventually able to identify it as not being mine. I'd been kidnapped by the triple killer."

"I remember that case." She blurts out, frowning again. It's ridiculously adorable, the way she looks right now, and he has to stare down at the gentle grey wash of their sheets rather than look at her. "Why on earth would he kidnap you?"

"Ah. . .he and I have some history. Anyway." He says pointedly, a glance flickering in her direction. He's completely willing to explain to her the story of Tyson, but not right now. Not when his whole body is still loose and liquid and he can taste her inside of his mouth. "You found me. Eventually. And we decided that we just needed to be married; none of the rest of it mattered. So we went to City Hall with your dad, my mom and Alexis and we just got married."

"That's so sad. 3XK stole our perfect day from us." Kate whispers, and she looks so desolate that he just has to kiss her again. Hand slipping up underneath her skirt and seeking the supple curve of her waist, he strokes his hands over her warm, bare skin until she softens and leans into him.

Once he's sure that she's halfway distracted, he pulls back and skims his mouth over the bridge of her nose, across her cheek and over to her ear. "All I needed - all I've ever needed - was for you to be my wife. So no, it wasn't sad; it was the happiest day of my life apart from the births of our children."

"Still." Kate murmurs, teeth catching in her bottom lip. "I hate that it happened that way. That you got _kidnapped_, Rick."

Rolling her underneath him, Rick nestles his hips in the cradle of her thighs and captures her face in his hands, kissing her deep and thorough until she's sighing and boneless and her fingers curl at his neck. "Doesn't matter. You're my wife, and we have a beautiful son. And you love me. How we got here, all of those hurdles? They can't hurt us anymore."

"Okay." She grins, and then she's tugging him back down to her mouth.

Cliché as it may be, he forgets the entirety of their history. Forgets anything that isn't his wife, and the feeling of their skins kissing underneath the sheets and the tender adoration so ripe in the way she touches him. Their wedding - the way it happened - has never bothered him. Not when it means he gets to have this now.

* * *

They slept in.

Completely not on purpose, but the two of them burst through the surface of unconsciousness, gasping for breath as Rick's phone vibrates hard against the nightstand and it rings out, shrill and obnoxious. Kate groans and shoves a pillow over her head, her husband's voice as he answers the phone coming through muffled and far-away sounding.

"Mother? _Oh_. Right. Of course. See you soon. Bye." There's a beat of silence, where Kate assumes Rick ends the call, and then his hand comes to her shoulder and he rolls her over to face him. "Kate. Mother and Marlow are in the lobby. On their way up."

"Oh, _crap_." Kate sits bolt upright in bed and then carries on going, almost crashes onto the hardwood in her haste to escape from the wonderfully soft cage of their sheets. Scrambling for a moment, she pulls on a fresh pair of underwear and Rick's t-shirt from where it's draped over the armchair by the window.

It's a little thin, sort of threadbare, but it's comfortable and it covers her to mid thigh and so it's just going to have to do. When she turns back to face him, carding her hands through her hair and praying that it'll flatten, she sees that he's pulled on pajama pants and is studying his reflection in the mirror above the dresser. "I look like I've been ravished."

"Well." Kate hums, taking a couple steps towards him and looping her arms low down around his waist, arching up onto tiptoe so she can rest her chin at his shoulder and meet his eyes in the mirror. "You sort of have been."

"So worth it." He grins, tilting his head until he can brush his mouth against hers. Kate kisses him back for just a moment, and then she steps away and tangles their hands together to lead him through to the living room.

A knock on the front door sounds out through the loft and they head to open it. Rick ushers his mother inside and Kate leans down to scoop up her son when he charges at her, tugging off his backpack so she can snuggle him properly. "Hey there, my beautiful boy. I missed you. Did you have fun with Gram?"

"Yes, Mommy." Marlow beams, and when she smiles back her son giggles and buries his face against her shoulder, both arms looping around her neck.

Shifting him to get a little more comfortable, Kate turns to face her husband and mother in law, flushes a little under the lifted eyebrow Martha sends her way. "Did you two have a good night?"

"We did, thank you Mother." Rick says, an edge to his voice that Martha must pick up on because she doesn't push it any further. Leaning in, she kisses first Rick's cheek, then Kate's and then finally Marlow's before she takes a few steps towards the still-open door.

"I must dash, the school calls. I'll see you all soon." Martha lifts a hand in farewell, fluttering her fingers at Mal when the boy lifts his head from his mother to offer his gram a shy smile.

Leaning her hip against the doorjamb, Kate frees a hand from around her son to hook two fingers in the waistband of Rick's pants and draw him closer to her, a shiver of pleasure darting through her body when her husband slings his arm low down around her hips. Swallowing, she smiles at Martha before dropping a kiss to her son's forehead. "Thank you so much for having Marlow."

"My pleasure, Katherine." Martha says, and then her eyes twinkle and she smirks, gaze flicking from Kate's bare legs to the equally naked plane of Rick's chest and back. "I'm glad I was able to give you two the opportunity to. . .talk."

Oh jeez. This is ridiculously embarrassing. Obviously Martha knows that Kate and Rick have sex; they have a son, for goodness sake. But knowing as an abstract concept and knowing exactly what they were doing all of last night are two very different things.

Martha strides away down the corridor, graceful and poised, and Rick closes the door and crashes into it, forehead meeting the wood as he groans. "Well that was horrific."

"Oh come on." Kate huffs, tracing the edge of his spine with a fingertip all the way up to his nape. "I'm sure she's delighted."

At that, her husband turns to face her and leans in to kiss her softly, grinning against her mouth until their kiss dissolves. "Not as delighted as me. I love you, Kate."

"Ew!" Marlow shrieks against the shell of Kate's ear, squirming to get down. "Gross kissy face!"

Laughing, Kate sets their son down on the hardwood and lets him charge off, watches as he clambers up onto the couch and sets about the very complicated business of taking off his sneakers. When Kate turns back to Rick he glances at her and grins, drawing her into a sidewards hug. She arcs her neck up to kiss him, fingers drawing circles low down at the bare skin of his waist.

"I love you, too." She says, and the way he looks at her makes her heart sing out. It seems like nothing is really all that different here, on the other side of this watershed moment for their relationship. Their son is still his giggly, chatty, hyperactive self. Rick still loves her, and she still loves him back. The only difference now is that she gets to show it, after so long waiting to be certain.

Rick breaks away from her side to join their son on the couch, opening his arms to the boy and frowning. "Does Daddy not get a hug, Marlow?"

"Here, Daddy." Their son beams, launching himself at his father and pressing open-mouthed, slobbery kisses over Rick's cheeks.

Heart turning to some gooey, ridiculous thing in her chest, Kate waits a beat in the entranceway before she covers the ground that separates herself from her family in a few quick footsteps and sinks down on the other side of Mal, grinning wide at her little boy when he wheels around to face her. "Why don't you tell me and Daddy all about what you did yesterday?"

Yeah. She's interested to know just what their son was doing while his parents were reaffirming their marriage and the love that runs so rich and deep and thick between them.

* * *

It's completely against all of their rules, but he doesn't think that Kate will mind all that much. And anyway, he's being careful; before he brings their son anywhere near the precinct he texts Ryan to make sure that it's safe for Marlow to be at the 12th.

When the elevator doors peel apart and the bullpen is revealed, Mal shrieks with delight and charges straight for his mother's desk. "Mommy, we are surprising you!"

"I see that." Kate laughs, lifting their son to sit on her lap in the desk chair. Spinning around to make their little boy erupt into laughter, Kate wraps both arms around his little belly and rests her chin on top of his head, seeking out Rick.

The way she looks at him, across the bullpen for any number of her colleagues to see, makes his blood rush. He feels kind of woozy, like he should maybe sit down, so he heads for his chair and sinks into it, wrapping a hand around Marlow's foot and completely dwarfing the tiny boy.

The boys come barrelling out of the break room and Esposito scoops Mal out of Kate's arms and lifts him high, lowering him back down to stand on the surface of Kate's desk and fist bumping with the toddler. The boys chatter with their nephew and Rick takes the small slice of privacy afforded to them to drag Kate's chair closer to his own and lean in, brushing a kiss to her cheek.

"I know you don't like when I bring him to work. But I missed you. And I checked with Ryan that it's safe." He says quietly, tucking the spill of her curls back behind her ear. For that, he earns himself a nod and a small, cautious grin.

He gets it. This is her workplace; here, she is professional and serious and respected. She can't really afford for the boys to see the two of them being sappy, being over the moon for one another. "I'm glad you two are here. I missed you too."

"Detective Beckett, what's-" Their captain calls out, poking her head out from around the door of her office. Catching sight of Marlow, Gates' whole demeanour softens and she strides into the bullpen, opening her arms for Rick's son. "Marlow, hello there. Look how big you've gotten."

"Cap!" Mal grins, reaching up for Gates until the captain picks him up. It had been truly astonishing, seeing Gates with their brand new baby boy. Rick had sort of assumed that, since their son is half _him_, the captain would harbour an automatic dislike for this new little person.

It hadn't been the case at all. Gates had offered heartfelt congratulations, had actually hugged him. Him, Richard Castle, and from over the captain's shoulder he had watched as his wife's eyebrows shot upwards into her hairline.

Gates has actually been wonderful, has offered plentiful advice for Kate on managing her career with motherhood. And both Marlow and the Ryan girls adore her, clamour for her affection on the rare occasions they see each other.

"Now tell me, young man, are you here to see Mommy or to see me?" Gates is saying to their son, making him dissolve into giggles and torque his body in his effort to turn around and look at his mother.

"I wanted to see all everyone."

Gates huffs a laugh at that, handing Mal over to Ryan when the detective touches a hand to the boy's back. "Good answer, Marlow. Alright, detectives, go take your lunch break."

By now, they know better than to argue. Rick takes Mal back and nuzzles his nose at his little boy's cheek, waiting in his chair for Kate and the boys to get their coats and scarves before the whole group of them pile into the elevator.

"Where do you wanna go for lunch, _peque_?" Esposito asks of Rick's son and Marlow grins, his cheek flush against his father's.

Kate has her palm at Mal's back, the three of them tethered together. "I want a hot dog."

"Hot dogs for everyone?" Ryan questions, gets a nod of agreement from everyone else.

When they spill out onto the street Marlow starts to squirm and Rick pauses a moment, letting the three detectives carry on a little way ahead. "Buddy, I can't set you down right now. It's so busy; I don't want you to get squished or lost."

"I not want down, Daddy." Mal huffs, patting his father's cheek in a way that somehow manages to be condescending, even in a two year old. "I want my mommy to carry me."

"Oh." Rick grins, glancing ahead to see his wife waiting with the boys for him and Marlow. "Kate."

Striding back to them, Kate skilfully weaves her way around a gaggle of tourists and leans in to kiss Rick's cheek, thumb tracing the shell of his ear. So in love with him, so tender and affectionate, even out here on the street for the whole world to see. "What's up?"

"Little man wants you to carry him."

"Oh, he does?" Kate's whole face comes alight with a pleased little grin and she takes Marlow from Rick's grip, cupping the curve of their son's skull and holding his body close. "You okay, sweet boy?"

"I love you, Mommy." Mal says, burying his face against Kate's neck. Settling a palm low down at Kate's spine, right where her hips flare out, he nudges her forwards and the three of them make their way to join Ryan and Esposito.

There's a hot dog vendor a couple blocks away from the precinct that they frequent and they fall in line, the boys making faces at Mal when he peeks at them from over Kate's shoulder. With their son distracted by his uncles, Rick takes the opportunity to kiss his wife.

When he pulls back, it's only far enough to rest his forehead against hers and smile at her, rearranging her scarf at her neck. "You okay? If he gets heavy I'll take him."

"If he gets heavy I'm giving him to Espo." Kate laughs, shaking her head. "Tío is the one making him wriggle around."

Laughing along with his wife, Rick ruffles their son's hair and shares a tender look with her. "He's lucky. There are so many people that love him."

"And his parents love each other." Kate says, quiet enough that the boys won't hear. It makes Rick's guts twist hard and he sucks in a sharp breath, still just completely floored by that. For all these weeks he's hardly dared hope that things may ever even get close to being okay again.

And yet here they are. Just as wonderful as they were before.


	17. Chapter 17

**Jane Doe**

* * *

"I'm proud of you." Rick murmurs, and Kate arches up onto tiptoe to brush her mouth against his, the two of them getting seriously handsy in the kitchen. It's been a week of slow, delicious lovemaking and every time her husband comes near Kate can't help but reach out for him.

There's been more than a little scowling from their son, tortured noises of disgust erupting from him whenever they kiss or embrace or are otherwise nauseatingly in love with one another. They just can't help it. It's like being a newlywed only more intense, more wonderful, because they've already built an amazing life together.

A life that Kate still doesn't remember, only knows through the stories her husband tells, but she's nonetheless enraptured by their history. "You are?"

"Uh-huh." He shrugs, a flush rising in his cheeks as he tugs open the refrigerator and grabs a carton of juice, nudging his shoulder against the door to close it again. Rummaging around in the cabinet for their son's zippy cup, he doesn't quite manage to look at her as he explains himself. "You're finishing therapy. That's a pretty big deal."

"I'm in a good place." Kate grins, taking the beaker from her husband and screwing the lid on tight before she hands it over to their little boy. Marlow is in the high seat at the counter; the intense duel between two of his action figures has him so distracted that he actually jumps when his mother sets the juice down in front of him. "Hey, sweet boy. Here you go."

"Thank you, Mommy." Mal beams up at his mother and she leans in to press a kiss to his cheek, a hand carding through his hair before she steps back from him and rounds the counter to join her husband, help him load the breakfast things into the dishwasher.

His shirt is tight, the soft cotton wrapped so deliciously around his biceps that Kate finds herself resting her cheek against him before she even knows she's doing it. Rick's arm comes around her, low down until his fingers curl at her opposite hip, and his lips dust a kiss to her temple. "I think we should do something to celebrate. Family dinner?"

"Sure." Kate grins up at him, untangling from his grip to rinse off the saucepan she cooked their eggs in this morning before she finds a space for it in the dishwasher. "Can you call everyone? I really have to get to work."

They don't have an active case, she's just on call, so this morning Kate let herself take the time to cook breakfast for her two favourite boys. She's dressed already, took a shower while her husband cleaned up the dishes and their son both. Today she decided to wear a tie, and she was immediately glad she did. Rick's eyes had widened and his jaw had hardened as he watched her emerge from their bedroom, his hands shoved down deep into the pockets of his pajama pants.

Mm-hmm. Over the past week or so she's learned a lot about what does it for Rick. And also a whole lot about herself that she hadn't known before. It has been the most wonderful learning experience, her mind blown more times than she's been able to keep track of.

"I'll call. Just Gram and Papa and Alexis?" Rick's voice draws her straight up out of her musings, but it doesn't exactly help dissipate the warmth in her cheeks, the hot thump of her blood in her neck and her wrists.

Swallowing back the thick, distracting clog of arousal, Kate manages a nod and heads to find a dish towel and dry off her hands. "Yeah. Let's keep it small."

"Sounds good to me."

"Great." She grins, stepping in close and draping her arms over his shoulders. In her heels, she's barely an inch shorter than him and their noses brush as they share a smile. Rick is the first to lean in, his mouth drawing sweet delight from hers and a shiver ripples through her whole body as his hands fall to frame her hips. Their kiss is tender and slow, careful and precise in how much is held back from it. Kate slicks her tongue at her husband's bottom lip and he grunts, drags her away from him by the hips. Laughing softly, Kate takes a full step backward and smoothes her thumb over his mouth to clear away the evidence of their kiss. "I'll call you at lunch."

"Okay. Have a good day. I love you." He says, and Kate finds herself humbled all over again by the depths of this man and his devotion to her.

Chewing on her lip a moment, Kate runs her palms over his chest to iron out some of the wrinkles in his pajama shirt. "I love you, too." Coming around the counter, Kate scoops her little boy up from the highchair and nuzzles at his neck, grateful that Rick wiped Marlow off and so he won't stain her clothes with the little hand he splays at her chest. "And I love you, my gorgeous boy. Be good for Daddy today."

"I be so good, Momma." Mal assures her, both hands capturing her face to hold her still and convey the magnitude of her toddler's words. Kate drops a smacking kiss to her son's cheek and his serious little face bubbles over with delight.

He wriggles in her grip and Kate hands the boy over to his father, giving each of her boys a last kiss before she heads for the door. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Kate slips out of the front door and closes it behind her, heading for the elevator.

When it arrives she leans against the wall of the elevator car, a hand dropping to massage low down at her abdomen. She's been cramping this morning, but worse than that is her sadness at not being pregnant. It had taken her by surprise just how fiercely she had wanted it, how sad she had been this morning to get confirmation that she isn't going to have another baby. At least not yet.

After their first night Rick bought condoms and they've been using them. Kate isn't quite brave enough yet to bring it up with him. Can't seem to find the words to tell him that she wants to throw out the condoms and start trying officially for baby number two.

She adores being a mother, loves Marlow more than her own life, and she wants a sibling for him. Wants to do it all again and remember it this time. For now though, waiting is probably a good idea. They're still settling into things, still finding their rhythm again and adding another baby to the mix is probably something that should wait a while.

Shaking her head, Kate steps out into the parking garage and heads for her car, pushing all thoughts of tiny little fingers and chubby cheeks out of her brain. Right now, she's Detective Beckett. No room to go all soft and melty at the prospect of another baby with the man she loves.

* * *

Rick is actually quite surprised that everyone is able to make it tonight. He felt bad about the short notice of their invitation, had apologised to Kate's father so many times on the phone that Jim had actually told him to be quiet, that it wasn't at all a problem.

Climbing the stairs two at a time, Rick heads in search of his son. Marlow has been playing in his room for a while now. Rick had put the finishing touches on dinner and then, everything keeping warm in the oven, he had sought out his wife and kissed her hard and hot up against the dresser in their bedroom.

They'd both gotten more than a little distracted, and now Kate is hurrying through the last of her makeup and Rick has about five minutes to get Marlow cleaned up and dressed for dinner. Knowing their son, it's going to take a whole lot longer.

When he nudges open the door he has to stifle a laugh at his son, sitting on the rug in the middle of the floor with a ring of action figures and building blocks circling him. "Hey buddy. Having fun?"

"Hi Daddy. Them had a war." Mal grins up at him, clambering to his feet and charging to meet Rick by the door. He raises his arms and Rick swings him right up into a hug, one palm splaying wide at his son's back to free up his other hand, fingers wriggling underneath Marlow's chin to tickle him.

He shrieks, squirming violently, and Rick laughs right along with his son as the two of them topple onto the mattress. For a few moments he lets Mal wriggle around on top of his stomach, but then he has to sit up and work towards corralling his son. "Come on, my man. We gotta get you dressed or we'll be in trouble with Mommy."

"Mommy is angry?" Marlow asks, eyes widening at the very idea of it, and Rick hastens to cuddle their son a little closer and soothe him with a kiss at the crown of his head.

"No buddy, Mommy isn't angry. But if you and I aren't ready in time for Papa and Gram and your sister to get here then she might be. So quick, let's get you dressed."

Rick lifts his son and sets the boy on the floor, standing up himself and heading for Marlow's closet. For his birthday Alexis bought him a tiny little button down, white with a swirling pattern of grey, and Rick plucks the shirt and a dark grey pair of tiny slacks from their hangers, turns back to find his son completely naked.

"Whoa there, my man. You still need your underwear on." Rick grins, waiting for Mal to tug them back over his skinny little hips before he kneels down next to his little boy and helps him get dressed.

Once he's finished, Marlow beams and throws his arms around his father's neck, coming a little too close to choking him for Rick's comfort. "Daddy, we match!"

"We do!" Rick grins right back at his son and scoops him up, slinging him around into a piggyback carry and heading for the staircase. Downstairs, Kate is just finishing up laying the table and when she hears them she glances up and grins, coming around the table to take their son from Rick.

"Look at you, my handsome boy." She murmurs, sharing an eskimo kiss with their boy and carrying him with her over to the kitchen. Rick follows, unable to help but gravitate towards his wife and son. "Alexis will be so happy to see that you like her gift to you."

Rick almost falls right over at that, his knees threatening to completely give out. He definitely didn't tell her that Marlow's clothes were a gift from his big sister. So does that mean. . . "Kate? How did you know that?"

"Hmm?" She says, still distracted with their son, but when she sets Mal down and turns to look at him her face washes clean with understand and she comes right to his side. "Oh, babe. I'm sorry. That's not a memory. I saw these in his closet the other day when I was getting him dressed and he told me they were from Alexis."

He swallows back the hurt and the disappointment, does a valiant job if he does say so himself. And he's grateful, truly he is, that there's no pity in Kate's face. Only a shared sadness, grief for her still-absent memories. She lifts up on tiptoe in her bare feet and offers him a sweet kiss, her fingers toying with the hair at his nape, and just like that all of his sadness is gone.

Yes, there are still gaping holes in her knowledge of their history. But they're working around it, carrying on in their life together. How could he be anything but grateful? "You called me babe. You always did that before."

"You're cute." She smirks, her thumb tracing the edge of his cheekbone before she drops down to flat feet. "I can't help it. You got him if I go put my shoes on?"

"Course." He smiles, settling onto a barstool next to his son in the high seat. Kate disappears through to their bedroom and Rick listens to his son's bubbling chatter, deciphers his story about the game he had been playing before his father interrupted to get him dressed earlier.

When his wife comes back he can't help but stare at her calves, her butt so enticing in the deep purple velvet of her dress. She looks gorgeous, truly, and Rick finds himself sliding off of the stool and meeting her in the living room, intent on telling her. "You are so beautiful, Kate Castle."

"Thank you." She blushes, fingers curling in the collar of his dress shirt as she leans in to kiss him. It's soft and quick, but when she pulls away she tangles her fingers with his and brings him with her to the kitchen. He gets carried in the rip current of his wife all the way to the refrigerator and hovers at her back, drops an open-mouthed kiss just behind her ear as she reaches inside for the tupperware containers he prepared earlier.

Kate pops the lid on each of them with one hand (_how?_) and heads back for their son. Setting each container in front of him, Kate ruffles his hair and reaches inside for one of the carrot batons, reaches over her shoulder to feed it to Rick before she takes another for herself.

"Here you go sweet boy. Carrots and grapes to keep you going until dinnertime, okay? Would you like to have some of the pasta and salmon like the grown ups are having?"

"Yes please." Marlow says around a mouthful of grape, kicking his feet in the high chair.

Rick's wife grins in something that might be relief and turns back to face him, pressing a wrist to her forehead. "That makes things a lot easier. Do you have an ETA for everyone?"

Glancing at his watch, Rick splays a palm at the curve of her waist and leans in until his forehead meets hers. "Could be any minute now, love."

He doesn't miss her shiver of delight at that moniker, but he has to force himself to ignore it. About seventy percent of him wants to scoop his wife up and carry her back to their bedroom, lay her down and peel off that dress as slowly as she'll let him.

But their son is right there, the rest of their family on the way to the loft. And, well, delayed gratification is a particular speciality of theirs. He can make it through dinner and an evening with the people he loves most in the world, safe in the knowledge that after everyone leaves he can finally stretch out with Kate and delight in the kiss of their naked skins.

* * *

After dinner - which was delicious, Kate is stupidly proud of her husband - Marlow gets drowsy pretty fast and his big sister collects him from the highchair and disappears off upstairs to get him ready for bed. Martha has cornered Rick in the kitchen and so Kate finds herself alone with her father in the living room.

"Katie." He starts, and she feels about six years old. Following his lead, she settles on the couch and traps her hands between her knees to stop herself from fidgeting. "You and Rick seem happy."

She's blushing again, completely ridiculous, and of course her dad notices. He smirks at her and carefully doesn't say anything, waiting her out. "We, uh. . .we talked. And I told him I love him."

It's weird to say that out loud, to her father. She doesn't think she's ever actually admitted to being in love with someone to him before. Not that she can remember anyway, and if Rick is to be believed then he is the only person Kate has loved over the missing span of ten years.

"I'm so glad, sweetheart." Her dad says, tugging one of her hands free from between her knees so he can clasp it in both of his. "And you're okay, Katie? Rick said you're done with therapy."

"I just don't feel like I need it anymore. I've come to terms with the missing memories. And I'm at a point where I feel comfortable asking Rick to fill in the gaps." Shrugging, Kate gnaws at her bottom lip and presses her knees together, rests her free hand at her thigh. She can't help but wonder if Rick is having a similar conversation with his mother in the kitchen right now.

"I couldn't be more proud of you." Her father says, and Kate lets herself fall sideways into an embrace. Her dad has been the biggest constant for her and she's so grateful for it, his unwavering support.

They slip into an easy conversation about her father's most recent visit to their family's cabin upstate and Kate is so enraptured with the story he's telling about a bear that came frighteningly close to the porch that she almost jumps right out of her skin when her husband's fingers curl around her shoulder.

Rick settles at her other side, his arm sliding low down around her waist, and Martha sinks into an armchair near Kate's father. The conversation turns to Martha's most recent play, which apparently Kate's dad went to go see, and it offers enough distraction that Kate can turn to face her husband, kiss him softly. "Dinner was delicious. Thank you."

"I'm so glad you liked it." He grins, nose nuzzling at her cheek. Kate is so wrapped up in him that she doesn't notice that their parents have gone silent until there's a loud cough and Rick jerks away from her. Behind them, arms folded, Alexis frowns and when they glance sheepishly up at her she rolls her eyes.

"Are you done being gross?"

Rick laughs and reaches out for his daughter's hand, pulls her around the couch to sit in his lap. She huffs, but presses a kiss to her father's cheek and stays put as Kate's husband pouts. "Sorry, daughter. We're done. How's Mal?"

"Asleep. I read him a story and he passed out on me halfway through." She chuckles, shaking her head and sliding off of her father's lap and onto the couch cushion. In between Kate and Rick and she groans, standing right back up again and moving to sit in the empty armchair instead. "Oh man, no way am I sitting between you two."

"Oh Alexis, sorry, I'll move." Kate says, making it halfway to standing before Rick is tugging her back down to sit even closer at his side. She feels bad for making the girl feel uncomfortable, or like she can't sit with her father. Kate can have him whenever she wants. It isn't fair to take Rick's attention away from his daughter.

All four of the others open their mouths to speak, but it's Martha that gets in first. "Katherine, don't be ridiculous. Alexis doesn't want to put up with the look on my son's face when he's without you. And really, neither do I or your father."

"Right." She grins, head bowed. Martha still kind of scares her a little bit. She's just so vibrant and full of life, and Kate feels a silly need to earn the older woman's approval.

Rick's fingers are warm and soothing where they sit low down at her spine and Kate lets herself relax in increments, grateful when Alexis diverts everyone's attention towards Rick instead. "So Dad. Kate is done with therapy now, but what about you?"

"Yes, I am too." Rick grins, the lift of pride at the corners of his mouth making him look so much like their son. Kate adores the little boy in him, finds herself so often swept up in a silly need to coddle him. "We're both done."

"That's great, Dad." Alexis says softly. Kate knows from personal experience how hard it is to watch a father go through therapy. And yes, Rick hadn't gotten anywhere close to as bad as Kate's own father did all those years ago, but it still can't have been easy for Alexis.

The girl's face is a little pale with relief, and now Kate really wishes she had ignored her mother in law and let Alexis sit with her father. She looks desperate for a hug, and Rick must sense it too because he opens his arms and beckons to his daughter. "Come here."

She does, climbing into his lap again and Kate turns away. It feels almost voyeuristic to watch the two of them like this. After a few moments, she hears Alexis let out a shaky breath and the girl shifts from Rick's lap again, this time squeezing herself in between him and the arm of the couch.

There's a beat of quiet, and then Kate's father stands and brushes some imaginary lint off of the fabric of his slacks. "I should be going. Thank you for dinner Katie, Rick. It was wonderful."

"You're welcome, Jim. Any time." Rick says, standing up to shake Kate's father's hand. Martha stands as well and gathers Alexis, the two redheads embracing first Rick and then Kate.

"We should go too."

"Can I call anyone a cab?" Rick asks, gets a row of shaking heads and murmured refusals from the rest of their family. Everyone migrates towards the front door and slips their way into coats and scarves, armour against the bite of early November.

There are more hugs exchanged, kisses to cheeks and then Kate leans against her husband's side, the two of them framed in the threshold as they watch the rest of their family heading for the elevator. Rick's kiss starts at her temple, moves down to her cheek, and by the time the elevator door is sliding closed he's got her against the wall and his tongue is slick and hot through her mouth.

Kate groans and arches into him, fumbling on one leg until she can hook a foot around the door and push it closed. Once she does she rocks her hips against the thigh he has between her legs and whimpers, turning her head away from his kiss to catch her breath and steel herself before she just comes apart right here in the entryway.

"Rick. Bed. Now."

They don't make it that far.


	18. Chapter 18

**Jane Doe**

* * *

Would it be pathetic if he fell over?

Probably, yes, but all the same he finds himself sinking heavily into the chair at his desk, hands in fists against his thighs because he's already broken a cup this morning. The nerves are, somehow, worse than the last time. It's ridiculous, really.

Through the bookshelf walls of his office, Rick watches as his son heads straight for where the boy's mother is curled up on the couch around a mug of coffee. Marlow has this funny, bobbling walk and even from the shards of her face that he's afforded, Rick can tell that Kate is stifling a laugh at their son.

He has perhaps never been so grateful for the less-than-substantial walls of his office than in this moment. He can see his wife and son as Mal climbs up to sit with his mother. Not everything of them, but enough. And, maybe more importantly, he can hear them too.

"Hi Mommy." Marlow says, his voice thick with joy. Their little boy is so excited to be involved in the plan, self-importance making his chest puff up. Of course Kate will notice, but Rick hopes that she won't think too much of it. That she'll just assume their son is his usual wacky self.

Rick hears Kate set her mug down on the table behind the couch and, through the shelves, he watches as she gathers their little boy up into her lap and wraps her arms around him. "Hi there, my sweet boy. What are you doing?"

"I cuddling you." Mal huffs, as if it should be completely obvious. That gets a gorgeous peal of laughter from Kate, dappled like sunshine, and Rick has to close his eyes for a moment. God help him, he loves her. How is he supposed to survive life with Kate Beckett?

There are several moments of quiet - probably the longest Marlow has gone without making some kind of noise in his short little life - and then their son's voice comes out tentative and sweet. Sly, too, but Rick might just be reading that into Mal. "Mommy. . .I see your rings?"

It isn't all that unusual, honestly. Marlow is fascinated by his mother's jewellery, loves to bat little hands at her ears if she wears long earrings to watch them sway. He's particularly enraptured with the gold skull bracelet Rick bought her their first year together, a replacement for the total failure that was his Valentine's gift.

He was, of course, still overshadowed by the utter perfection of the drawer that she gave him, but she has always loved that bracelet and he gets a little silly with pride whenever she wears it. The thing that most draws in their son's attention, however, has always been her rings. She doesn't wear the engagement ring at work, mostly keeps it safe in the simple wooden jewellery box that sits on top of their dresser. But the wedding band she never takes off.

As he watches Kate hold her hand out for their son to see the simple platinum band that encircles his mother's finger, Rick smoothes his thumb over his own ring and twists it around his finger. For his previous two marriages the ring wasn't that much of a big deal to him, but this time he's so proud to wear it. Have the whole world know that he's happily married to the love of his life.

"I try it on?" Rick hears Mal ask and Kate laughs again. He can see her shake her head in amusement, but he doesn't see her tug off her rings and hand them over to their son. There's a shriek of triumph, a crash, and then thunderous footsteps as Marlow charges for the office where he knows his father is waiting.

Rick hears his wife's huff of surprise and then the softer fall of her own feet as she follows their little boy. "Marlow baby, where are you going? Be careful with Mommy's ring."

"My daddy need it!" Mal yells, several decibels louder than is really necessary in this situation, and Rick has to stifle a laugh. His son comes spilling through the office door and careens towards him and Rick stands up from the office chair to catch Marlow and swing him up into his arms.

Mal huffs, out of breath, and thrusts the ring towards his father. Pressing a smacking kiss to his son's cheek, Rick takes the ring and sets Marlow down on top of the desk. Standing up, and he wobbles a little, clutches at his father's arm to keep his balance.

In the threshold, Kate leans a hip against the doorframe and Rick glances up, offers her a sheepish grin. One eyebrow lifts towards her hairline and she smirks, holding his gaze. "You want to tell me why you enlisted our son to steal my wedding band?"

"Katherine Beckett." He starts, covering the distance between them in two strides and sinking to one knee in front of her. Her eyes go wide and she claps a hand over her mouth, staring down at him.

It isn't like the last time. He's a whole lot more confident in her answer this time around, for starters. DC doesn't loom on the horizon, threatening to take her from him. And he's smiling, and so is she, and their son is hopping around on top of the desk behind him.

Rick turns over his shoulder and pins the boy under his gaze. "Mal, sit down. Let Daddy concentrate." Their little boy drops right down onto his butt, little legs kicking against the surface of the desk, but now that Rick doesn't have to worry that Mal is going to fall and crack his head open he turns back to his wife.

She's still frozen, watching him intently, and he takes her hand in both of his. "Kate. I love you. Marrying you was the happiest day of my life. I hate that you don't remember it. So if you'll have me, I'd really love to marry you. Again."

"If I'll _have you_?" She huffs, and then she drops to her knees and throws both arms around him, her mouth hot against the shell of his ear. "Of course I'll marry you again, you big idiot."

Kate pulls back to look at him and he frames her face in his hands, kisses her slow and sweet. All of their history is rich between them and then she laughs and the touch of their mouths crumbles apart around the arc of her grin. "Did you really have to get Mal to steal my ring? You couldn't just use my engagement ring from the dresser?"

"That's not as fun. And I wanted to involve him." Rick smiles, reaching for Kate's hand and sliding her wedding ring back home where it belongs. She takes a moment to look at the ring on her finger and then she looks up at him again, leans in for another kiss.

When they break apart, Rick stands up and collects their son from the surface of the desk, carries him over to where Kate is just getting up from the floor. Marlow lunges right out of his father's arms and Kate takes him gratefully, peppering kisses over his cheeks. "Thank you for helping Daddy, my sweet boy. You did such a good job."

Mal flushes with pride, a little bashful under his mother's praise, and Kate laughs. One hand around their son, she tangles her fingers with Rick's and leads him to the living room, drawing him down to the couch with her and their little boy.

"I'm surprised you didn't do it at Thanksgiving." She nudges an elbow into him and he smirks, reaches out to ruffle his son's hair. Mal has his head pillowed against Kate's chest but his eyes are on Rick and he offers his father a shy little grin that Rick returns, wider and brighter.

It is kind of a strange time to do this, he knows. Six weeks since she first said she loves him, slap bang in between the two wintertime holidays. "I thought it would be good at Christmas, but I just couldn't wait that long."

"I love you." Kate says quietly, leaning in until her cheek meets his shoulder. And then she sits bolt upright and glances at her father's watch where it circles her wrist, eyes wide. "Oh no, I'm supposed to meet Lanie for lunch. Take him."

She hands over their son and Rick finds himself suddenly with his arms full of a squirming toddler, holds Marlow close as he tries to escape and follow his mother. Rick carries Mal with him over to the front door and each of them gets a last kiss from Kate before she shrugs her way into a coat and scarf and disappears down the hall towards the elevator.

There's a beat of quiet, and then Rick grins down at his son. That went better than he could have even imagined. Holding his hand out, fingers upturned and pressed together, he can't help but let a peal of delighted laughter escape when his son - his partner in crime - feeds the birds with him.

* * *

"Sorry, sorry." Kate huffs, sliding into the booth across from her best friend and struggling her way out of coat and scarf as she goes. It's hot in the restaurant; Kate shucks her blazer as well and pushes up the sleeves of her turtleneck, huffing a breath.

Lanie is frowning at her in mock annoyance and she shoots a pointed glance to her watch, purses her lips. "You're late, Kate Beckett."

"I know." Kate says quietly, unable to stop the smile that bubbles over when she thinks of just why she didn't make it on time for lunch with her best friend. "I, uh. . .got a little waylaid."

An eyebrow lifts across the table and Lanie snorts, rolling her eyes. "I know that look. You got _something_-laid, alright."

"No!" Kate chokes out, takes a sip of the ice water sweating in front of her on the table just to buy herself a little time. "I wasn't. . .doing that. Jeez Lanie, I have a son. I can't just spend all morning in bed."

Their server interrupts and they order lunch, thank the young woman. Kate's gratitude is probably a little too intense, but she is so very glad for the opportunity to escape from her best friend's inquisition, even for just a moment. She'll tell Lanie, of course, but she wants to get it right. Convey how wonderful it was.

When the waitress leaves Lanie laces her fingers and rests her hands on the table, pins Kate under a stare that rivals Beckett's own interrogation glare. "So what were you doing then, if not that?"

"Marlow asked to try on my wedding ring and then he ran off with it. I followed him to the office and he had given the ring to Rick. And then Rick asked me to marry him. Again."

Lanie's face breaks open around a beaming grin and Kate echoes it, thumb circling over her wedding ring again. She still can't believe it really happened. It had crossed her mind, definitely. That there are some memories that she can repeat. She'd been afraid to mention it to him, figuring that after three weddings he probably wouldn't be so eager to have a fourth.

How wrong she was. This morning, as hope bloomed into joy and spread across his face, Kate was certain that Rick will never get bored of her. That even repeating things he's lived through already won't make it any less amazing for him.

"He did? Wow, honey, that's amazing." Lanie slides out of her side of the booth and comes around to sit on Kate's bench seat instead, wrapping both arms around her and squeezing until Kate lets out a huff of breath. "I'm so happy for you."

Kate closes her eyes against the threat of silly tears and wraps an arm around her best friend, the two of them holding one another tight. She was never really a big hugger before, but now she has a husband and son and both of them seek her out for snuggles all the time.

Eventually, Lanie extracts herself and returns to her own seat. The medical examiner is a little misty eyed herself and Kate lets out a bubble of watery laughter, wiping at her eyes. "I'm so happy, Lanie. Everything is. . .perfect."

"You more than deserve it, Kate. After everything you've been through to get here." Lanie says softly, reaching for Kate's hand and squeezing her fingers. "I can't believe he kept it so simple. That man had so many ridiculous ideas for Ryan and yet both times with you it's been small and intimate."

"What was the first time like?"

"Well, it was when you got your job offer in DC." Lanie starts, taking a slow sip of her own water. Kate knows all about that already; a late night conversation with her husband filled in the details of Kate's entire career history. "There's this swingset that you two always seemed to pick as the setting for your most serious conversations. You met there, and you thought he was gonna break up with you. But instead he asked you to marry him."

At that, Kate feels a blush rising in her cheeks and she dips her head, chews at her lip. It's still very strange to hear about such intimate moments from other people and get not even a spark of recognition. "Did I tell you what he said?"

"He said that he wasn't proposing to keep you in the city or because he was scared of losing you, but because he couldn't imagine his life without you. And that he was willing to figure it out when things got hard."

Swallowing hard, Kate cards a hand through her hair and sighs softly. "I don't really deserve him, do I?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Lanie says immediately, her voice sharp enough that the people at the next table swivel around to look. Lanie glares until the strangers turn away again and then continues, softer now. "You two are equally deserving of each other. He's very good to you, Kate. But you're so good for him too."

"Okay." She murmurs, feeling thoroughly chastised. Self-deprication is rare for her, but when it comes to Rick she can't seem to help it. He's just so amazing that she still can't quite believe he ever wanted to marry her in the first place. He's her favourite author, for goodness sake.

"Kate? You should talk to him about this. He's probably the best person to convince you that you're more than worth it to him."

Meeting Lanie's eyes, Kate manages a nod and a tremulous smile. "You're right. Yeah. I'll talk to him."

"Good. Now eat your sandwich." Kate laughs and thanks the server as she sets their food down, takes a moment to collect herself before she follows Lanie's advice and takes a bite.

* * *

The television is on, the sound muted, and Rick is pretty sure that his wife's attention is entirely not focused on the news headlines that scroll across the bottom of the screen. She's in his lap in the armchair, her legs draped over the side and her forehead flush against his neck. His arm is around her waist, hand underneath her shirt, and his fingers smooth over the skin of her belly without him even consciously realising it.

When she was pregnant, they would sit like this a lot. Rick would spread his palm at his wife's stomach and feel the strange, wonderful flutter of life underneath the surface. Still, after so many months, he aches for her and the joy she's lost along with those memories.

Melancholia floods through him and he twists, torquing his neck at a ridiculous angle to get his mouth against the crown of her head in a kiss. "I wish I could give it all back to you."

"Hey, shh." She soothes, fingers wrapping around his wrist. Her thumb strokes over the hum of his pulse and she drops an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. "It's okay. You've given me more than enough, Rick. You want to marry me again. You want to do all of that again, for me."

"I love you. I'd marry you every day for the rest of our lives if you wanted."

That earns him a laugh and he's glad, even if he was only really half joking. Kate hums and arches her back, sinking down against him again with her body loose and languid and delicious. "That's maybe a bit excessive. But do you have any ideas for when?"

"I want to give you the wedding we were supposed to have. Sort of. Smaller, more intimate. But with a lot of the same plans." He glances down at her, a little surprised when she tips her chin up and brushes her mouth over his.

Her kiss is sweet and gentle and it makes his silly heart pound in his chest, his hands clammy. When it comes to Kate Beckett, he has always been a little boy with his first crush. And she knows it, must do, because she's just so tender with him all the time. "That sounds beautiful. And easier, right? If we already made the decisions."

"That's what I was hoping. So, Kate, marry me in the Hamptons, in May?"

She _giggles_, and he could swear his heart does an actual somersault. His arms tighten around her and he kisses her again, closes his eyes as the television rolls over from the news into some home renovation show. "Yes, Rick. Of course. I'll marry you."

"Kate." He breathes against her mouth, a hand travelling up underneath her turtleneck to find the clasp of her bra and unhook it. She shivers in his grip and tilts her head, lets him open his mouth against the underside of her jaw and brush his tongue to her skin. "I want you."

"Wait, Rick. First. I need to talk to you about something." He watches, more than a little astonished as she pieces back together her control and sits up a little, moves to stop him distracting her with any more kisses.

"Is everything okay?"

"I'm forty next year." She says mournfully, meeting his eyes. Her words sink like a stone in his gut because yes, he knows. And he's possibly never been more aware that he's got ten years on her.

He smoothes a thumb underneath her eye, across to the corner where her skin creases up with delight. He adores every moment of watching Kate age, getting to see the lines that life carves into her skin and know the stories for each of them. "I know, love. More beautiful every year."

She blushes, lashes falling to hide her face from him for just a moment. "Thank you. But that's not my point. My point is. . .I don't want to be having kids in my forties."

"Oh." He breathes, grits his teeth against the clog of anguish. He always wanted his kids to grow up with siblings, have the friendship that he never did. And it seems as if he won't be able to do that for either of them. "Of course, Kate. Marlow and Alexis are more than enough for me."

"No, you don't understand." She murmurs, a palm at his cheek. It takes a moment, but he's eventually able to open his eyes and meet hers. "I want to start trying, Rick. I want another baby with you. Now."

His jaw drops and all of the air escapes from his body in one short breath, like being hit in the solar plexus. He just can't believe that this is actually his life. Upstairs, his perfect son is sleeping soundly, and the most gorgeous, amazing woman in the world is sitting in his lap, wearing his ring and telling him she wants to do it all over again.

"You do?"

"I do." She smiles, shy and so lovely that he thinks he might fall right out of his chair. "Is that. . .something you might want?"

He sighs at her, rolls his eyes. "You are kidding, right? There's nothing in the world I'd love more than another baby with you."

"Okay." She gnaws at her lip, suddenly avoiding his eyes. "I was talking to Lanie today, and I feel so guilty. Like I'm just taking from you all the time. Seems like I always have been."

"Hey." He murmurs, two fingers at her chin to tilt her face towards him. "Don't think like that. You've given me so much, Kate. You and I are not perfect, but we're perfect for each other."

That earns him a smile and another kiss. His wife is adorable, truly, and already he can feel himself bubbling over with excitement at the prospect of another baby with her. She loved being pregnant last time, with their son. She was a glowing, gorgeous, sexy goddess of a woman, even more so than usual. And he wants it, for her and for them.

"I just want you to know how grateful I am." Kate says softly, a little more hesitant than he would perhaps wish for. And honestly, there's no reason for her to be grateful. He owes her pretty much everything good in his life now.

Palming the curve of her skull to reel her back in, Rick tugs kisses from the bow of her lips and his free hand spreads out across her jaw, his middle finger stretching up to her cheekbone so he can feel the work of her face as their mouths meet. "You don't have to be grateful. I'm just so glad you stayed."

"I can't imagine anything other than this." She hums against his mouth, and it's so close to what he said when he first proposed to her all of those years ago. He's so glad she said yes. Then, and now.

Sometimes even now, he still can't believe he gets to spend the rest of his life with her. "Me neither. Now, Mrs Castle. Let's go make a baby."

She laughs, clear and bright, and slides off of his lap. Reaching for his hand, she brings him with her through to the bedroom. Before she lets them get distracted, she turns the baby monitor up and hovers next to it a moment, her face spreading into a smile at the sound of their son's breathing, crackly but still distinct.

It still gets to him. Kate Castle is a wonderful mother. And she's his wife.


End file.
